One Hundred
by MissHaunted-MoonLight
Summary: A collection of my 'Tenth Doctor FanFic100' one shots. Latest : 041 .:Martha had never, in all her life, seen multicoloured clouds before. Nor had she seen clouds with such unusual shapes … But, of course, there was a first time for everything:.
1. 001 : Always The Beginning : Beginnings

**Always the Beginning  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Always the Beginning.  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** 001 - Beginnings  
**Word Count** 770  
**Rating** PG13  
**Summary** He hated starting from scratch.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes** Spoilers for 'Smith and Jones' and 'The Shakespeare Code'.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The beginning.

Always the Beginning.

He_hated_ starting from scratch.

And yet having a new 'companion' aboard the TARDIS meant he was going to have to explain everything all over again.

All the rules. All the responsibilities.

All his secrets.

For he knew without a doubt that Miss Martha Jones would not be one to let things go without putting up one _Hell_ of a fight.

She was young, a student. A _medical_ student, no less.

Making her curious and intuitive. She was unmistakably intelligent, too.

She came from a large family - or so it had seemed from his briefest of brief glimpses of the Jones' Clan when he'd gone back for her.

Divorced parents and at least two siblings; a brother and a sister.

Piggy in the Middle, then.

So being the middle child probably meant she'd be the calm one. The mediator. The one who maintained a strong sense of belonging for each and every member of her family. The one who provided a much needed balance in their every-day hectic lives.

Making her 'down-to-Earth' in personality.

And making her _extremely_ patient.

So his 'it doesn't matter' attitude towards - well, _anything_, really - would be completely and utterly useless if she was after something.

He could tell …

He could tell without knowing Miss Jones at all that it was going to be a _lot_ harder to keep his secrets from her.

But was that necessarily such a bad thing?

'_Yes_,' he told himself. 'No-one _can know. No-one_ ever _knows_.'

Which is why he knew she couldn't stay with him.

But he couldn't deny that a 'thank you' trip had been in order.

'_Just one trip_.'

After all, she'd saved his life!

"Just one trip, then back home!" he'd said, adamant.

And she'd agreed. No arguments.

"I'd rather be on my own."

…

Or so he'd thought at the time.

But now …

Here they both were. Sharing a bed, no less, in an Elizabethan pub in 1599, metres from one of Britain's all-time geniuses … and for the first time since losing Rose … he felt _content_.

Suddenly curious, he spared her a glance, tilting his head against the headboard and studying her intently.

Not exactly surprisingly, she had her back to him.

He supposed his last words to her may have been a tad tactless … just_a little bit _rude, maybe. After all, it wasn't _her_ fault she was new. She was probably nervous enough – she didn't need him rubbing salt into the wounds, as well!

'_I'll apologise tomorrow_,' he decided, a small smile playing about his lips as he watched her hand twitch a little against her pillow. Her breath was low, soft, even, her chest rising and falling in melodic harmony.

So peaceful.

His grin widened.

Martha Jones had taken this whole experience in her stride. She'd been the epitome of calm back up on the Moon, not running around in hysterics at the thought of never seeing her family and friends again, but focussing upon helping her patients, helping _him_.

And she'd loved it. The sparkle within her eyes as they ran for their lives had told him as much.

She'd believed in Aliens too, despite the length of time it had taken him to persuade her that he was indeed 'extra-terrestrial'. So she obviously paid attention to that 'Bigger Picture'.

Bless her.

_But he still couldn't__ keep her_!

Could he?

An ear-splitting scream shattered his spiralling thoughts and he was off, practically flying from the room as he shot towards Will's study. Much to his concealed delight, a hurried backwards glance assured him that Martha was hot on his tail.

Hell, she had excellent reflexes if she'd managed to catch up with him mere milliseconds after being shocked awake.

All of this was what he lived for; the excitement.

And it seemed Martha Jones was also more than partial to a thrill or two, herself.

He skidded to a halt with his new companion feet behind him, gazing down upon the motionless form of the blonde Landlady. Shakespeare's head shot up, his eyes half-closed as he forced himself to wake up properly. But the Doctor's attention was focussed upon Dolly Bailey's quite obviously dead body.

Yet out of the corner of his eye, he still managed to spot Martha rushing past him, making for the wide-open window.

Investigating.

Doing her bit to make sense of what had happened.

Helping him again. Just like she had been doing since the very minute they'd first met.

And his broad smile was back.

Who knew?

Maybe he _could_ keep her, after all.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies for reading! Hope you liked!**

**Reviews are lush!**

** Blessed Be,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx.**


	2. 003 : The Final Goodbye : Ends

**The Final Goodbye  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** The Final Goodbye  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 003 - Ends  
**Word Count: **1'116  
**Rating: **G  
**Summary: **Everybody leaves him, in the end.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** My plot bunnies seem to like being desperately emotional.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

His eyes are watering.

He can feel those tears, hot and fresh, cascading down his pale cheeks like endless waterfalls.

His breath catches in his throat, burning it, _scorching_ it as he struggles to bring it back under his control. Has breathing _always_ been this hard?

His head is spinning, the ground beneath his feet swaying with more ferocity than a ship caught in a storm.

And yet still he makes no sound.

He simply nods, glumly, his hearts breaking but the unfazed, unsurprised, cool and collected mask of his still remaining firmly in place.

Damnit, he _isn't_ going to lose it. Not now.

With a small sigh, he brings his ship - his best friend - to a screeching halt, surprisingly landing her smoothly.

For once.

And silence falls within the TARDIS' four cavernous walls.

Martha is staring intently at him, tears of her own glistening deeply within her eternally twinkling orbs, but he refuses point blank to meet her gaze.

He can't.

With a small hiccup, she kneels down and gathers the bag into her shaking arms, mentally berating herself for being so weak of will. She's having doubts. She _can't_ be having doubts! Not now.

'_It _shouldn't_ be this hard …_'

"So … " he calls, still avoiding her penetrating gaze as he runs a weary hand through his already ruffled hair. But he falls silent again immediately, unsure of what to say.

"So …" she murmurs back, taking a tentative step towards him.

"Are you sure?" he asks softly, his very core screaming at her for even _thinking_ of suggesting this, but somehow – _miraculously_ - managing to keep a composed gaze. Finally he turns to her, his resolve wavering dangerously as he spots the snail-trail tear tracks that are winding cautious paths down her tanned cheeks.

A heavy sigh escapes her trembling lips, but she nods anyway, knowing that she _has_ to do this.

And the Doctor can say no more.

What is there to say?

There's so much he wants to tell her, so many things he wants to show her, but when Martha Jones knows what she wants, she stops at nothing to get it.

And this will be no different.

She's right, he realises. And he's being selfish.

So he remains mute, his eyesight wavering slightly before he can turn away from her again.

A second nod.

And before he knows what's happening, Martha's in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

'No!_ I am _not_ going to lose it, damnit_!'

He holds her. Because it's what he has to do. Martha's in need of comfort, and what else can he do but provide it?

So he holds her. Wishing, _praying_ that this isn't really the end.

But it is.

They're both just kidding themselves.

Postponing the inevitable.

With a heavy but disguised sniff, Martha pulls reluctantly away.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," she whispers, almost _pleads_.

But the Doctor can only nod distractedly, reaching out a shaking hand to squeeze her shoulder; one final act of comfort and support.

Perhaps the last he'll ever give to Miss Martha Jones.

She looks quite frantic, now. Almost desperate. She wants … no, she _needs_ him to understand!

"My Mum, Doctor," she murmurs, begging him with her wide and soulful eyes to accept this. "She needs me," is all she can say before the tears start their descent, once again.

The Doctor simply nods once more.

"I know."

And the silence is back. They both already know what the other wants to say. There's no need to voice their thoughts, least of all when they're both thinking the same thing: 

'_Why now_?'

"Just promise me something," she asks of him, pulling him in for another brief hug before stretching out a trembling hand to gently cup his face, _forcing_ him to meet her urgent gaze. The Doctor blinks away the tears, and waits. 

After a pause that seems like an eternity, she finally speaks again, her voice so soft it is almost missed completely.

"Find someone."

The Doctor feels his head incline in obedience, but he isn't sure he wants to follow her wishes, this time.

Not again.

Because everybody says it to him, now.

"Find someone."

But why? It always leads to this, in the end. He finds someone, and they leave, asking that he finds someone else in their place.

A never ending cycle.

Fate's cruel, twisted joke.

And still he nods, knowing full well that he can't very well ignore her last wish. He owes her that much. 

For the briefest of brief moments, their lips touch, a tentative kiss, an act of unspeakable thanks for the sights, for the sounds, for the company each has given the other …

And then she's gone.

Everybody leaves him, in the end.

He'd thought that no goodbye could hurt more than his farewell to Rose … but it seems he'd been wrong.

Perhaps this _didn't_ hurt as much as it had when he'd been forced to let _her_ go, when he'd been forced to stand there and tell her that she was 'officially dead' back home … but it was still a pretty close contender.

And it would never stop, would it? For they all left him in the end.

Be it by accident, by need for a free life outside of the magnificent blue box, by illness, by death, or by family issues, it always happened. They'd all leave him, eventually.

Rose was torn from him, torn away in the throes of War, dragged to another reality to live the life she'd always wanted – a life with her family.

And now Martha's gone too. Nothing strong enough to pull her away from him save her mother's fatal illness.

And as the TARDIS dematerialises, fading away, blinking out of existence with an inhuman grating sound, he lets a small sob escape his lips before running a hand across his face and regaining that lost composure and dignity.

Flying away without so much as a backwards glance, he never notices Martha Jones standing just outside his wooden blue box's doors, watching with shaking shoulders and red-rimmed puffy eyes, a hand covering her mouth and a wail escaping her own parted lips, as her soul-mate vanishes from her life with little more than a whirring of alien engines.

One blink later, and the Doctor is gone, zooming away around the Universe, saving one race, then another, travelling through the stars with a pair of freshly broken hearts.

All because one more person has left him.

Martha hopes he heeds her request.

But even so, even if he _does _find somebody else, she can't spare him from the heart-ache.

Because everyone leaves, in the end.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thank you for reading! **

**Just to cover my back a bit, Martha's Mum doesn't _really_ have a fatal illness in the series ... or at least, she doesn't _yet _and isn't expected to get one to my knowledge, but this is just one reason why Martha might end up leaving the Doctor - not that it is going to happen, which is why this an AU ...  
Yeah, confusing, huh? Sorry. (Grins)  
**

**And … just so you know …  
Reviews are yummy!  
**

**Blessed Be!  
Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	3. 029 : Birds and Bees : Birth

**Birds and Bees  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Birds and Bees  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 029 - Birth  
**Word Count:** 1'352  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Martha's given a rather unexpected piece of information about the Time Lords and their … ahem … 'creation'. And the Doctor is extremely amused. 10Martha, one-shot.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** 10Martha fluff. No spoilers! WooHoo! Don't ask where this came from, 'cause I've absolutely no idea. I know - random, huh? Ratings for ... well, innuendo, I guess. (Grins)

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"Where did all of this start?"

The Doctor blinked and looked up, eyes seeking out his companion as he peered around the central column, glasses perched precariously on his nose and a tiny frown niggling away at his lips.

"Where did all of _what_ start?" he asked, stumped.

Martha shrugged, her feet dangling back and forth on the captain's seat-come-sofa.

"With you. You and your time travel fetish and your hero complex. Actually …" She paused, thinking, then stared at him through widened eyes. Grinning, she asked playfully, "where did _you_start, period?"

The Doctor felt a blush rise up in his cheeks and he dropped the peculiar tool he'd been fiddling with moments before onto the console, clearing his throat a little and moving around to sit beside her.

Staring at her curiously, he paused, then asked, "Martha Jones … are you asking about … my creation?"

She grinned innocently up at him and nodded.

"Well … I was just curious." She twiddled a stray lock of hair around her index finger and nibbled absently on her bottom lip, fixing him with a piercing stare. "I mean … well, you're an _alien_. So … well, was it … y'know, the same? Like … _humans?_"

She was blushing now, too.

The Doctor grinned manically, then shook his head a fraction.

"Nuh uh," he said, tones equivalent to those of a two year old kid. Then he frowned. "Wait … are you talking _just_ me or the Time Lords as a whole?"

Martha's mouth dropped open in surprise, and she shrugged awkwardly.

"Um … well, you I s'pose … but does that mean you were … um,_created_ differently to your people?"

In reply, the Doctor smiled cheekily and set about examining his nails, apparently faintly pleased with himself.

"I was unique," he said, grinning.

Martha could feel the colour rising in her cheeks, and she stared at him for a moment, lost for words.

"Okay," she said finally, slowly. "How were your people created?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, flicking at a speck of dust on his suit jacket and fighting back a laugh.

"Looming," he said simply.

But he couldn't resist looking up at her that time, eager to see her reaction and yet hiding his desire remarkably well behind an offhand mask .

And his grin broadened.

Martha's eyes widened in disbelief, and after a few seconds of silent contemplation, she shook her head.

"Nah," she said, laughing. "No way."

The Doctor nodded enthusiastically.

"Way," he sad brightly. "Time Lords - and Time Ladies, of course - were 'loomed'. Straight into adulthood, see. Less mess and more action. There'd be none of this hanging around for sixteen years waiting for kids to mature. They'd be straight into society, fully trained and ready for life's little mishaps and accomplishes."

Martha restrained a snort of disgust with difficulty.

"But … _looming_? As in what old women do with their laundry? That's just … that is just so _not normal_!"

The Doctor smirked.

"Ahh, but as you very well know – we're '_not normal people_'."

She shook her head in outright incredulity.

"But it just sounds so … so … so _crude_, though! Did your species have no concept of romance?"

The Doctor's smile fell, and he shrugged sadly.

"Not really. The Time Lords were cursed long ago. Back when the Pythia ruled Gallifrey. When she was overthrown by the Time Lords, she condemned the population to sterility. 'Looming' kind of became the only way for our people to continue. Time Lords don't interfere. As a rule, they kept themselves to themselves, only existing to watch over the Universe and keep the peace rather than alter it. 'Watchers', in a sense. 'Watchers of Time and Space'."

Martha nodded dumbly, then stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"So … what, you're a renegade? 'Cause there's no way in _Hell_ you could be considered a 'Watcher'. You interfere even when you're just 'passing through'."

The Doctor nodded, shrugging.

"I was exiled _centuries_ ago, though I've never abandoned my roots. Many a time the Time Lords called for me when they wanted something doing – usually when they wanted to interfere with the 'natural order' but didn't want to get their hands dirty. Then it became my job, and I'd be welcomed into society with open arms until my work was done, at which point they'd go back to disapproving of my actions in peace."

Martha frowned.

"Why were you exiled?" she asked carefully.

The Doctor shrugged again.

"'Cause I didn't agree with them. In a sense, I probably exiled myself. I just … I didn't like the thought of the Universe suffering because a few 'pompous senators' didn't see the help to be had from intervening. So I took matters into my own hands; stole a TARDIS - but don't tell anybody I said that, mind - and escaped. I regret now, I think, that I was less inclined to follow them, but I still think I did what was the right thing for me. I wasn't really one of them. And they knew that too."

He sighed heavily, the thoughts of his race bringing down a somewhat melancholy mood about his shoulders. But Martha's curiosity was peaking again, and he wasn't miserable for long, because with it came her quite adorable sense of discomposure.

"And er," she went on, hesitating before ploughing on, "back to the … '_looming_'… where did you fit into it all if you were 'unique'?"

The Doctor's smile had returned with a vengeance, and the faint pinkish tinge to his cheeks had resurfaced too.

"Quite normally," he said jumping to his feet again and retrieving the previously abandoned tool. "I had a Gallifreyan father and a human mother. I'm sure you can do the math," he said, pausing in his tracks to shoot her a broad and distinctly guiltless grin.

"Oh," Martha whispered, dropping her gaze and staring at the green column rather uncomfortably. "The birds and the bees, huh?"

"Yup!" the Doctor replied, popping the 'p' in perfect imitation of a young and excitable child, and clacking his teeth together.

Sensing her sudden discomfort, he glanced up and beamed at her.

"Hey, you asked," he said, smirking and feeling again that he was owed applause for being brilliant. Not that Martha had the faintest of clues as to_ why_ he felt he'd been brilliant, but he didn't care, really. He'd won.

He'd successfully stunned her enough to break the continuous flow of questions.

And that was good enough for him.

"So, next. Time for another adventure, I think," he told her briskly, slapping his palms together and pulling up the handbrake, having entered coordinates randomly a moment before.

Martha, still trying to imagine how fully grown people could be created through such an ancient and disturbing piece of technology, was rather oblivious to the customary rocking and bumping that came with pretty much every journey they'd even undertaken inside this peculiar blue box.

And distracted as she was, she barely even noticed their arrival.

It wasn't until the Doctor was snapping his fingers in front of her face that she finally jumped back into the present.

Or rather … the _past_.

Stepping outside, unprepared, she froze just outside the door as the Doctor joined her, locking the TARDIS up behind them and heading off through the bustling streets of Victorian London.

But Martha stood stock still, her eyes riveted to the ancient piece of machinery that was standing monumentally outside somebody's front door.

And as she watched a merry widow woman gently looming her laundry, humming tunelessly to herself as the rollers twisted and turned, groaning in protest, Martha's cheeks were burning.

The Doctor ambled over, spotting the distraction, and nudged her playfully in the ribs. She turned to him, wide-eyed, her cheeks red as tomatoes and a tiny smile of amazement dazzling her lips. And he winked at her in reply.

"Birds and bees, Miss Jones. Birds and bees," he said jovially, chuckling.

And before she could utter a single word, he gripped her unresisting hand and tugged her on through the crowded streets.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Well, this plot bunny was ... odd ... to say the least. Still, she's been fed, so there we are. That's one more to add to my FanFic100 collection! I'm getting there! Slowly but surely.**

**AnyWho, mega massive thanks for reading, and do comment if you happen to feel so inclined. You'll get a cyber-cookie! A **_**really**_** big one!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	4. 032 : The Truth Hurts : Sunset

**The ****Truth Hurts  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** The Truth Hurts  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 032 - Sunset  
**Word Count: **3'611  
**Rating: **G  
**Summary: **On a distant planet, while the twin suns sink slowly beyond the horizon, Martha learns the truth about the Doctor's 'suicidal tendencies'. And the truth hurts.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Set after '42'. Major spoilers for the first seven episodes of the 2007 series.

**A/N 2: **Um, oddly enough, the beginning of this is told from the planet's point of view, just in case you were wondering. Please don't ask. I'm dozing as I write it. I mean, writing at half past one in a morning isn't always the best time, but this plot bunny was incredibly persuasive … and I mean _incredibly_ … (Shudders) Sorry for any typos. Again, it's half-one.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The whirring of alien engines broke the sleepy stillness of Hina'ea's rolling beaches.

The waves lapping gently against the rich, purple sands were momentarily subdued by a grating, wheezing sound, their thoughtless paths disturbed for a few seconds by a spiralling breeze.

The twin suns began their descent towards the edge of the planet's horizon, the fast-becoming indigo skies burning out their final dying embers, and a small white light illuminated the scene as the sandy ground was disturbed by a manifesting blue box, materialising from the very heart of the miniature, make-shift twister.

After a few seconds of chaos, peace was gradually restored, albeit with the addition of a peculiar, cobalt space ship now standing tall against the inky backdrop.

But it didn't remain peaceful for long.

With a soft creak, the blue ship's doors opened slowly, almost unwillingly as though the ship was having second thoughts about landing here; almost as if she'd much rather keep her occupants indoors, if not away from this place entirely.

But said occupants were having other ideas.

If the TARDIS wanted to mess about, setting coordinates for them without asking what they had planned in the first place, they were damn well staying where they'd landed.

And Hina'ea really didn't mind.

Quite on the contrary, she was delighted she had company.

Her burning eyes alight with welcome as they slowly vanished, inching bit by bit towards the edge of the world, she licked her sandy lips with anticipation and watched as a small-framed Ethiopian girl emerged from the depths of the peculiar box, auburn eyes wide and staring, drinking in the paradise with delight as she stepped aside, a tiny gasp of surprise escaping her only to be eaten by the dying wind.

"Oh, _Doctor_!" she breathed softly, gazing almost hungrily at the swirling azure waters.

Hell, she'd never _seen_ water so clear!

And the _sand_!

Yes, Hina'ea was very proud of her sand. Amethyst was a very rewarding colour, and as her eyes slowly slid out of sight, the night drawing in but the beauty of twilight lingering, she could do little more but smile warmly as she realised that the last thing those eyes would see before they were consumed by darkness would be the twinkling grains of sand that were slowly being licked clean by clear waters.

Even to her, this place was paradise. And this place _was_ her.

A moment later, there was another creak as the door was pushed wide again.

A taller figure emerged, this time. A male with messy brown hair and deep, pooling eyes. He was dressed in a sharp pinstriped suit, tan trench coat billowing out behind him and an unusually patterned tie dangling loosely about his neck, quite obviously in the process of being removed completely.

With a sharp intake of breath, a tiny smile quirking the edges of his lips, the man – the _Doctor_, Hina'ea presumed if the girl had been addressing _him_ when she'd spoken before – turned on his heel and gently tucked a small key into its keyhole, turning it with a click before removing it and depositing it into one of his coat's many pockets.

His smile stretching as Hina'ea's eyes continued to plummet before them, he moved across to stand just behind his companion, a long-fingered hand reaching up to squeeze her shoulder gently.

"Just in time," he whispered. "I told you Hina'ea has the most breathtaking sunset you'll ever see."

Hina'ea smiled at the appraisal, suddenly deciding she liked this strange couple a great deal.

The occasional star blossoming high above them now, she winked happily at them as they wandered carefully over the sandy beach and finally dropped to the floor, curling their toes into the warm sand and watching as the tide washed in and out.

Deciding she wanted to see who these strange characters were, Hina'ea considerably slowed the descent of her two glowing orbs, leaving them to hang for a few minutes in the sky, just above the horizon.

The twin suns were sinking as night cloaked the landscape, but night could wait a few more moments.

After all, it wasn't every day Hina'ea had visitors.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"So why'd she bring us here, then?" Martha asked quietly, gazing enraptured at the gently sloping waves as they meandered sluggishly towards the coast. The two suns were sending the odd glistening ray of amber light bouncing over the crystalline surface, giving Martha the impression it was made of diamond, rather than water. She sighed with contentment, the day's events washing away is if pulled out by the retracting tide.

"Well … she must reckon we need a break from saving the Universe. And this is probably one of the most peaceful spots found for a fair few galaxies. Being uninhabited, it's virtually untouched."

"I'd noticed," she said, eyes sparkling. "It sure is beautiful."

"As I say, it's untouched. Earth was beautiful once. Back before mankind decided to imprint its mark and claim its land for themselves."

Martha's eyebrows raised.

"I thought you liked Earth?" she asked, sceptically, sensing the annoyance behind his otherwise emotionless words.

"I do, but … well, it's just nice to see something _other_ than human interference. It's nice to see a planet that knows nothing about the human race and its apparent desire to conquer the Universe. This is one place you'll _never_ get your hands on."

Martha frowned.

"I'm getting a hint of disapproval for my native species, Doctor. Are you sure you're not just annoyed because McDonnell took it upon herself to mine the Sun without checking for signs of life, first?"

The Doctor half-shrugged, his gaze fixed on the two burning balls of flame before him.

"Look at them," he murmured, pointing a tentative finger at the one on their left as it continued to edge slowly towards the sea beneath it. "Without it, this planet would be useless. Nothing but a shell. It's the one living thing that no planet can do without. Even the coldest of planets has to have _some_ kind of energy source from it. And yet humans think it's okay to rip out its heart and use it for their own purpose. Look at them, Martha, and explain to me why _anyone_ could want to harm them."

Martha sighed, her gaze fixed on the setting sun and its accompanying companion.

"Well, to be fair, they didn't _know_ that Sun was alive," she defended, though still admittedly feeling slightly angry with her own species at the same time. After all, the Doctor had a point.

"No," he murmured back, voice barely noticeable. "No, they didn't."

Martha shot him a sideways glance in time to see him shake his head sadly, eyes drawn to the darkening waters ahead of them, his chin resting on his knees and his fingers interlocking over the top of them.

"What's wrong?" she asked, wondering if he was still silently brooding over the day's events.

But she supposed being almost eaten alive by an angry Sun was probably reason enough to _not_ be in the most amiable of moods.

"Nothing," he said tonelessly, eyes glazing over a little as he stared beyond the swirling waters now, eyes still upon them but in a way that suggested he could see straight through them.

"Yes there is," she replied, restraining an eye-roll. "You've gone all manic depressive on me. And this ain't exactly the kinda place that's gonna depress a normal person."

The Doctor shot her a small smile.

"I'm not a normal person," he confessed, eyes twinkling a little as if in clarification to his words. Martha snorted.

"Yeah, well, ain't that the truth."

She paused, biting on her lower lip as the silence returned. Staring out at the sinking suns, she exhaled heavily and relished in the feelings of warmth and beauty that were radiating out from their burning epicentres. Even at twilight, the heat was unbelievable!

"So you gonna spill it, then?" she asked gently, leaning back on her elbows and considering the Doctor through curious eyes as she sank ever deeper into the warm, violet sands.

"Spill what?"

Martha sighed again.

"Y'know, I hated this game when I was four and I _still_ hate it now," she admitted, shaking her head a fraction in frustration.

"There's nothing to spill, Martha," he replied, voice still one of monotonous contemplation.

"Like Hell there isn't," she said, frowning deeply now.

_Something_ wasn't right, here …

The Doctor remained mute, avoiding her penetrating gaze.

"Come on, you can tell me," Martha pleaded gently, sitting up again and placing a soothing hand on his arm. She could feel his muscles tense a little beneath her grip, but he didn't pull away, for which Martha was unfathomably grateful. "What's the matter?"

The Doctor half-shrugged.

"Well … well, it's nothing, really. It's just …"

He paused, frowning, trying to find the words. Martha waited, her concern mounting at his sudden loss of a helpful vocabulary when _usually_ she had a hard time trying to keep him quiet for more than two seconds.

Focus distant and tones low, he tried again.

"I dunno, I guess I'm just … tired."

Martha raised her eyebrows.

"Since when did lack of sleep make you manically depressed?" she asked calmly.

The Doctor shrugged.

"I don't mean that, exactly."

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

The Doctor frowned heavily, his gaze faltering as the burning suns became a little too overbearing for his aching eyes.

"I'm tired of surviving everything."

Martha remained, tactfully, silent, though her muteness could mostly be accounted for her stunned disbelief, rather than because she'd thought it good etiquette to say nothing in reply to such a simple statement.

"I felt its pain," he said softly, returning his stare to the suns and glaring into them with renewed vigour. "I could feel it, hear it screaming, hear its begging cries for me to help it, for me to put things right. That's all it wanted. Just to be looked after."

"Well that's natural, isn't it? It just wants to feel appreciated," Martha said, unsure of where he was heading with this.

The Doctor nodded and stared at her then, eyebrows knotting together. Obviously trying to hint at something, but unfortunately, Martha was out at sea on this one.

"That Sun's been burning for millennia. Some burn even longer than _that_. And in all that time, it's served its purpose without complaint, without fault. And what does it get in return? It's heart ripped out by a few energy-hungry humans."

"Yeah, but I thought we'd gotten passed the whole 'humans-are-annoying-let's-throw-rocks-at-them' stage," she reminded him, frown deepening.

"Yeah, I know but … well, I dunno," and he fell silent, leaving Martha feeling even less sure of herself than usual.

_What_ was going on?

"Um … okay … but that doesn't explain your sullen mood, does it? Are you grieving for a Sun you've just saved? Shouldn't you be celebrating it, instead?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"No. No I'm not. I'm not grieving for it." And he fell silent again, leaving Martha to her confused thoughts.

She was just beginning to wonder how 'all-there' the Doctor really was when he finally spoke again.

"How many people died today, Martha?"

Martha stared at him, horrified.

"What?" she asked, faintly hoping she'd misunderstood his question.

"Up on that space station. Five people died. Died in the most horrific of ways. Five members of a seven man crew."

Martha's head was beginning to hurt, and she found herself wishing she'd kept her mouth shut and just left him to brood his mind empty on his own.

"Yeah but … what's that got to do with anything?"

The Doctor ignored her, instead thinking back to the events prior to their arrival on McDonnell's cargo ship.

"And what about during Lazarus' big launch? How many people died _then_?"

Martha stared at him, flustered.

"I … I dunno, a few?"

"And what about back in Manhattan? An entire _species_ was wiped out then. Not to mention thousands of humans that had been taken prior to that by the Daleks _for_ the 'Final Experiment'."

Martha was at a loss of what to say to that. Of _all_ the topics … Of _all_ the places ...

The Doctor sighed heavily, lost in thought.

"Maybe your Mum's right, Martha," he whispered sadly.

"Right about _what_?" she asked, completely lost.

"She spotted it. So did Jackie. So did Donna. So did Queen Victoria. And so has pretty much every single person I've ever met. The Time Lord's foresaw it in me. They must have known all along what it's taken me 900 years to realise myself."

"What _are_ you babbling on about?" Martha asked, genuinely shocked by his attitude. Who the Hell were Jackie and Donna, anyway?

"It follows me."

Martha shivered.

Such a simple phrase, and a memory of what had to have been no more than one night ago flitted into her mind. Her mother's voice, urgent and despairing, the sting of a harsh slap echoing slightly beneath the heart-felt words of a distraught parent.

'_Look around you! Nothing but death and destruction!'_

She shook her head.

"_No_," she heard herself say. But … thinking about it … could she _really_ debunk it? _Honestly_?

And the Doctor had apparently noticed the quiver of uncertainty, as well.

"Not so sure about that, are you?" he asked, smiling miserably.

"Well …" she faltered, unsure of how best to phrase it, "well, okay, so I've probably seen more deaths than I would during an average day on Ward 26, but … b-but they _weren't your fault_."

Of _that_ she was certain, if nothing else.

The Doctor, however, was less sure.

"It's not like I _ask_ for it to happen. I mean, I _hate_ violence. It never solves anything. But … it's like I _attract_ it, or something. No matter where I go, no matter what I'm doing or who I'm with … it's _always_ there."

Again, lost for words, Martha remained silent.

"I've just … I've had enough, now."

The twin suns were half-gone, by now. Their orange lights were staining the lower sky a deep crimson, their dimming spheres of light slowly vanishing from sight as the darkness rolled in. The gently lapping waves were the only sound to be heard for miles around, and the ground beneath her was suddenly less appealing as the harsh sting of the growing cold bit into her skin.

The warmth was all but consumed as the last dying ashes of daylight faded away.

Martha rubbed insecurely at her upper-arms and bit her lip.

"And that's why …?"

But she fell silent, unable to voice it.

She'd had another rather unpleasant recollection.

'"_Alright! So it's _my_ turn! Then _kill me! Kill me_ if it'll stop you attacking these people!"_

"_I will be the des-troy-er of our great-est en-em-y!"_

"_Then do it! _Do it_! Just _do it! DO IT!_"'_

Martha shivered again, the coldness suddenly seeming overwhelming as she remembered the sincerity in his eyes as he'd shouted, _screamed_ at them to end it, arms wide in offering as he visibly shook with rage and pain.

"_DO IT!"_

The words were reverberating around her head now.

And they weren't the _only_ ones.

'"_If I'm gonna die, let's give the new boys a shot, eh? The Dalek-Humans, their first _blood_! Go on! _Baptise them!_"'_

Her shivers were growing.

'"_What are you waiting for? _Give_ the command!"'_

And even _he_ had thought that was it.

She'd seen it. She'd _heard_ it in his voice, clutching onto Frank in horror, her eyes jammed shut and a tiny sob escaping her lips as he breathed in sharply, again his arms spread wide as though _welcoming_ them to fire.

"All those times," she whispered, dismayed. And her own voice was soon echoing within her ears.

'"_But it was her! She killed him, she did it, she _murdered_ him!"'_

Martha's breath hitched.

'"_He gave his life so they'd find you."'_

"You gave your own life to stop that Plasmavore," she murmured, staring out over the calm waters but, like the Doctor, she wasn't really seeing them any more.

The Doctor said nothing.

"And then … later on … with the witches. She _stabbed_ you."

The Doctor said nothing.

"And in New New York. You jumped through _exhaust fumes_ just to try and find me."

Again, the Doctor said nothing.

Martha's horror was growing by the second.

"With the Daleks. All those times … _all those times_ you _begged_ for death!"

She was shouting now, her own horror overpowering her rationality as she stared at him through a hazy film of tears.

"_All those times_! You've been _begging_ for it? All along you _wanted_ to die, did you? Do I count for _nothing_?" she begged of him, her eyes wide and staring.

The Doctor nodded slowly but purposefully. "Of _course_ you do! That's not _why_ I did it," he reasoned, avoiding her gaze. He felt for her, he knew that much. And he'd felt guilty, all those times. Guilty that he was giving up on her, as well as everyone else. As well as giving up on himself. Guilty that he was abandoning her, each time he wished for it, asked for it, begged for death to take him after so many years of fighting.

And yet he'd still gone out of his way to make it as easy for Death to claim him as possible.

Because he simply couldn't do this anymore.

As with that sun, he wanted to feel appreciated. Feel like his lives had been worth something. But the _deaths_... So many, too many deaths. He wasn't saving lives, he realised desolately. He was bringing about their destruction, instead.

Martha sighed heavily. "But it didn't matter that it might have hurt _me _to see you like that?" she asked quietly, bringing his attention back to the here and now with a particularly nasty bump.

The Doctor said nothing.

And neither did Martha.

There was nothing to say, not anymore.

The twin suns were almost none-existent now beyond the rich, scarlet horizon. The soothing sounds of the sea weren't so appealing, all of a sudden. The cold was biting and the sand beneath her was incredibly uncomfortable, now.

And as the final wisps of sunlight were devoured by the blackened sky, Martha felt a sudden urge to leave this peaceful planet as quickly as possible.

She was polluting it, maiming its beauty with disturbing thoughts and feelings.

This planet was supposed to be untouched, and yet she was destroying its innocence the longer she remained sitting here.

Much to her relief, the Doctor had realised the same thing himself, and was soon stumbling to his feet, eyes lingering on the now barely noticeable horizon as he contemplated the odd twinkling star and the gentle sparkle of a distant wave.

"I think we should be going," he murmured, clearing his throat a little before holding a hand out to help her up.

Martha took it, albeit a little reluctantly.

Making to follow him, she soon changed her mind and tugged him to a halt instead, staring intently at his troubled face through the night-time gloom.

"Doctor," she said softly, her anger demolished but her sadness growing. He turned to her, eyes that held a thousand stories swirling within them, so many different and painful emotions among them that he was Hell-bent on refusing to let free.

"What?" he asked glumly, eyes downcast and his hearts suddenly heavy as stone.

Martha frowned, and reached out a tentative hand to cup his chin slightly.

"For the record … I don't blame you," she whispered.

The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly.

"Neither did she," was all he would say. "And look where it got her."

Martha didn't even need to ask who he was talking about.

"Yeah, well, she had good reason. And if we must drag her into this, she wouldn't want to see what you're doing to yourself, would she?"

Stung a little by his constant comparison of her to his past companion, Martha felt slightly guilty at the harshness of her choice of words, but they were words that needed to be spoken, no matter _how_ painful they may have been to hear.

The truth hurt. She'd learnt that much herself over the course of the past few minutes.

The Doctor sighed heavily and shook his head a fraction in defeat.

"No," he mumbled. "No, I don't suppose she would."

"Y'know, no matter what," Martha went on, smiling a little in reassurance, "You _do_ know you've got me, don't you?"

The Doctor nodded, sparing her a grateful half-smile of his own before reaching into his pocket for the TARDIS key.

Vanishing inside ahead of her to set the coordinates, he left Martha to stare out over Hina'ea's peaceful beach, her eyes scanning over the violet sands and the crystalline waters, seeking out the sparkling pinpricks up in the sky that were the billion and one stars she had yet to visit.

And as she backed into the TARDIS at last, a sigh escaping her lips, her eyes grazed over the horizon just as the doors swung slowly shut. And for the briefest of brief moments, she spotted a tiny streak of yellow as the twin suns set completely, their lingering lights disappearing from view as the night took over.

"Those Suns need protection," she heard the Doctor call softly from his position beside the console.

Martha could only nod her agreement, her mind elsewhere and her heart aching for her lonely companion as the TARDIS faded out of existence, Hina'ea returning to normal once again with little more than a whirring of alien engines.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks for reading! Please review if you have a moment.**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	5. 038 : Keep On Running : Touch

**Keep On Running****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Keep On Running  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones/Rose Tyler  
**Prompt:** # 038 - Touch  
**Word Count:** 1'617  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** It was so easy to touch her when they were running for their lives. But then they stopped running. 10th Doctor. Slightly angsty.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** No spoilers. Yup, another late-night plot bunny. 'Tis rather a shippy one, for a change. I think this one could be read either as 10Martha or 10Rose, depending on who you prefer. Me personally, I wrote it with Martha in mind, but it probably suits Rose just as well. (Shrugs) S'up to you, dudes!

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It was _so_ easy to touch her when they were running for their lives.

All he had to do was reach out for her hand, grinning cheekily at her as they bolted through streets, or corridors, or sand dunes, or underground tunnels – usually depending largely on where, who or _what_ they were running from. She'd take it in a second, half-smiling back, albeit with slightly less excitement and a tad more fear for their welfare.

And every time she returned the gesture, his hearts would skip a beat. There'd be something, something _deep_ inside of him that was nothing short of delighted by the contact.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that her hand fitted so perfectly within his.

They'd sprint together, clinging to one another like their lives depended on it, fearful that if one of them let go, they'd be lost forever. He'd relish in their closeness, smelling her perfume as they tripped and stumbled on away from whatever danger had taken to chasing them. They'd work in tandem, work as a well-oiled machine works, encouraging one another to keep on running or supporting each other if the situation required it. And while half of him would be concentrating on making sure they both lived to tell the tale, mentally thumbing through plan after plan after plan, the _other_ half would secretly wish that they could stay like this. Keep on running through said street, or corridor, or underground tunnel, hand in hand. Keep on running like this forever.

But then they _stopped_ running.

The danger would pass, and they'd relinquish their grips on one another, smiling shyly and avoiding each other's gazes as they struggled to find the words that both knew would never come.

And he'd miss the contact.

Suddenly, - selfish though it may have been to even so much as _think _it - he'd wish they were running for their lives again.

Because he couldn't touch her when they weren't.

She was so close to him, so _infuriatingly_ close, close enough for him to reach out and cup her chin, reach out and lift the stray lock of hair from her eyes or run a loving palm down the side of her face. And yet he couldn't close the gap between them, and she knew as much.

She knew it, and her heart would break because of it.

Which is why she, too, longed for the danger, longed for the life-threats that each passing day seemed to warrant before she could call it a night. If only for the chance to touch him again.

And he knew as much.

He knew it, and his hearts would ache because of it. He knew her dilemma, knew her love for him was insatiable. And he so dearly wished he could return the favour.

In those times when they touched, those times when they were running for their lives, he could forget. Just for a moment, he could pretend that there was nothing stopping him, no inhibitions, no memories, no fears of what would happen if he _did_ touch her. And he'd take advantage of that, would grip so hard to her that he'd be rather surprised later on that he hadn't actually crushed her fingers.

But then they stopped running.

And the inhibitions, the memories, the _fears_ would return. He'd drown in them, drown in guilt and sorrow and apprehension and would let her hand drop from his, feeling its sudden vanished weight scar his hearts in such a way that only running for their lives again would be enough to heal them.

Ahh, the irony.

How he hated fate's cruel and twisted idea of a joke.

For each to have the one thing they wanted above all else, they'd have to risk losing the one thing they wanted above all else.

And he simply wasn't prepared to lose her, not even for the pleasure of touching her again.

-----------------

_They're running for their lives._

_She has no reason to believe that today will be any different. But then … neither does he._

_They skid gracefully around a corner and he reaches out to her. She takes his hand in a heart-beat, glancing nervously over her shoulder and suppressing a cry of despair as their spear-clad pursuers screech their war-cries, sprinting ever closer to their retreating prey._

_She glances sideways and he flashes her a delighted grin. She smiles back, muscles working a little harder than usual to procure what overall looks more like a grimace as they pick up the pace, pulling one another along through the maze of streets, people on the sidewalks or in their gardens watching the chase with apparent interest._

_They run for what feels like miles, vanishing into a forest and weaving their way through the undergrowth in forced silence, wincing if a twig snaps underfoot as they press on, the density of the surrounding trees increasing the darkness as sunlight is gradually blocked from above._

_Slowly, the cries are lost to the sounds of nature, and another anxious glance over their shoulders depicts little more than enclosing shrubbery, sealing them off from the outside world, hiding them from their attackers and consequently giving them a chance to pause for breath._

_The adrenaline rush slowly fading, she falls forwards in exhaustion, a small moan escaping her lips. He leaps forward and catches her, sliding to his knees as he takes her weight, frowning in concern._

_"Easy," he murmurs, hearts racing. "I've got you."_

_She chuckles weakly and presses a hand to her chest, unable to suppress the wheezing coughs that are soon piercing the sleepy silence around them. He coaxes her upright, and she leans against him, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as she struggles to control her breathing. After a minute or so, she falls silent, turning to him and offering him a shaky smile._

_"Sorry," she whispers, ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest as he pulls his hand away. "Haven't run that far in a long while. Must be a bit out of practice."_

_He smiles back and nods in agreement, lowering his gaze. His fingers twitch, resting on his thigh now that they've left her back but wishing they were touching her, instead. He ignores them._

_"We should be safe here. We'll give it a few minutes, then cover our tracks. Hopefully, the 'mob' will be too preoccupied with searching the woods for us to notice us slip back to the TARDIS."_

_She nods too, running a trembling hand through her hair and sighing heavily, her heart rate slowly returning to normal._

_Silence falls between them._

_He's nervous, she can tell. Though she can't for the life of her understand why he should be._

_She's about to ask, but she never gets the words out._

_Because he's kissing her._

_Startled, it takes her a few seconds to grasp onto what's happening. But when she finally does, she smiles against his lips, letting a hand slowly rise up to hang over his shoulder, curling a lock of hair at the base of his neck around a finger as he silently asks the question she's so long been wishing to hear._

_She obliges and he deepens the kiss, mind a whirlwind of emotions as he tries to tell himself that he's doing the right thing._

_And it works._

_Just _touching_ her soon convinces him that he's doing the right thing._

_For the first time, they aren't running for their lives. And yet the feelings are exactly the same. He can still smell her perfume, still sense her silent joy that he's reached out to her, still feel his hearts slowly healing as her added weight gently slides them back into place._

_Rather identical to the feelings he has when he's holding her hand while they're running for their lives._

_He doesn't hesitate to admit to himself that this is better._

-----------------

Everything returned to normal, after that.

They'd touch only when they were running, silently praying for one another to _keep _on running once they'd started - just so they could keep on touching.

But it didn't matter.

For _her_, it was a case of 'any contact with him is better than nothing at all'. For _him_, it was a case of 'anything more than this and I won't be able to let her go'.

Each had accepted the truth the day they'd acted on impulse. They'd tested the boundaries, taken things one step further and touched one another in ways that both had dreamed of but had never _really_ expected to come true.

And while the boundaries themselves had held fast, they'd mutually agreed that they couldn't risk what they had for fear they'd lose everything.

Yet even now, she still dearly hopes that one day things might change again, that he might drop his guard, even if it's only for a second, and allow the _real_ him to shine through the mask he wears on a day-to-day basis. The 'him' she met in the woods while they were hiding from an angry mob of psychopathic land-owners who'd caught them 'trespassing' in their secluded village.

But she doesn't expect him to, not really. In fact, for all her hoping and wishing, deep down, she knows he can't. So for now , she's content.

They're usually running for their lives more often than not anyway, and with the running comes the contact she so greatly loves to have.

So for now, she's content for them to just keep on running.

While _he_ only wishes he could overcome the irony, once again. Because the contact they shared when he did so the first time was most definitely its own reward.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies for reading! Hope you liked!  
Reviews are shiny, and I love shiny things.**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	6. 041 : Cloud Watch : Shapes

**Cloud-Watch****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title**: Cloud-Watch.  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 041 - Shapes  
**Word Count:** 1'205  
**Rating:**PG-13  
**Summary:** Martha had never, in all her life, seen multi-coloured clouds before. Nor had she seen clouds with such unusual shapes … But, of course, there was a first time for everything.  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Set mid-series 3. No Spoilers. Not really a plot, just harmless, 10Martha fluffiness.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"I'm not entirely sure _what_ that is, Doctor," Martha laughed, sparing him a furtive glance as her index finger absently tracing the outline of the large, fluffy-looking lilac cloud above her head. Smiling, the Doctor spared her a small glance before turning to the cloud that had caught her attention.

"Well …" he dragged out, licking his lips slightly as he crossed his arms behind his head and settled further into the azure-coloured grass beneath him. Smirking, he half-shrugged. "To me, it looks like a cross between a torxiphilian pedometer and a rubber duck."

Martha rolled over slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, the better to stare at him with an eyebrow raised, her expression completely unreadable to the untrained eye. Lucky for him, his eyes _were_ trained, exceptionally well, even if he did say so himself.

"A_what_?" she asked sceptically, half-wondering if she'd misheard him.

He grinned at her, lifting his own arm and reaching out an impossibly long digit to trace the same outline that she herself had sketched seconds ago.

"There, look. There's a head, there. Head and beak and even a tiny hole where the eye would be, but if you look _real_ close at the base of it, it's kind of … well, roundish. Y'know. Circular. With a rectangle near the top - that'd be where numbers and letters are displayed on a torxiphilian pedometer."

Martha rolled her eyes, a grin emerging on her face as she considered the boyish enthusiasm adorning his.

"Yeah, I didn't mean you had to prove your point, Doctor," she said before his detailed explanation could expand any further. "When I said 'what' I actually meant what the hell is a torxifilli…whatsit?"

The Doctor spared her a calculating look, before he let his arm drop and replaced it cushion-style behind his head, once again.

"A torxiphilian pedometer is a pedometer found on the planet torxiphalia, o'course. It's kinda exactly what it says on the tin, see. Thought you might have been able to figure that out for yourself, Doctor Jones." He raised a taunting eyebrow, eyes privately glittering with amusement as she glared at him.

She shrugged, mindlessly flicking an invisible speck of dust from the sleeve of her propped up arm, purposefully avoiding his gaze.

"You_do_ know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, don't you, Doctor?" she asked amiably, smiling.

He smirked at her.

"Nah, it's not, is it?" he asked in mock disbelief. "I'd never have guessed."

She rolled her eyes, before dropping her elbow and sliding onto her back again, quietly chuckling to herself. "You really are quite impossible," she told him, beaming from ear to ear. "I can honestly say that _nobody_ in the entire _Universe_ could ever hold a flame to you."

He laughed softly to himself, sparing her a delighted glance before imitating her and considering the skies, again.

"See anything else you like?" he asked her after a moment's silence.

She smirked.

"Aside from the purple sky, blue grass and multicoloured, randomly patterned fuzzy clouds?" she asked innocently.

He nodded, turning to her again, watching out of the corner of his eye as she glanced hurriedly at him before realising she was being watched. Blushing, she resolutely returned her eyes to the skies, again.

"Well, those three things in particular are still standing out in my mind, Doctor. I'd have to say that seeing such a stark contrast to a normal Earthly summer's day is more than enough to keep my mind occupied. Give me _too_ much to look at and my head might well explode."

The Doctor feigned amazement.

"Wow, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Restraining another eye-roll with difficulty, she shook her head and grinned. Licking her lips in anticipation, she straightened up, noticing as she positioned herself cross-legged in front of him that his eyes were following her every movement. Internally beaming, she made certain her expression was neutral before fixing him with a questioning stare.

"Why did you bring me here, Doctor?" she asked, glancing around at the tranquil but incredibly alien landscape.

He shrugged half-heartedly, glancing at the sky again before letting his eyes fall to rest on her face.

"Just thought you might want a pit-stop from all the headless-chicken-style running about we've been doing, lately. It was a purely spontaneous landing, I assure you. I let the TARDIS choose for us, this time."

She smiled warmly, glancing at the precariously parked blue police box silhouetted against the lilac sky not too far away. Standing tall amidst a sea of long, aquamarine-coloured rushes, its 'square'ness seemed a little less obvious than usual. Despite it being such an unusual shape, the TARIS had blended exceptionally well with its surroundings. Quite like its owner, in fact, she mused as she turned in time to see him staring at her again. The Doctor, too, appeared to be feeling 'at home', as he alternated between watching the scenery and studying her …

"You know," he murmured after a moment, eyes lingering a second longer than was necessary on her softly pouting lips, "the clouds aren't the only things with beautiful shapes here."

Martha felt a blush rise in her cheeks but tried to keep her face as neutrally impassive as possible.

Needless to say it was scarcely working.

Ignoring her racing heart, she shuffled ever so slightly closer, a small smile teasing the corners of her lips. "Oh really? What else is there worth looking at?" she asked curiously, feigning disinterest as she sneakily drank in his every feature. '_Aside from you, Doctor_,' she mentally added, smirking at the thought.

When he was sure he had her complete and utter attention, he shuffled steadily closer and reached out a hand to hers, silently interlocking their fingers as he stared her dead in the eye. The silence dragged on for near on a minute before a smirk spread across his face and he pulled her unceremoniously to her feet.

"_Hey, Doctor!_" she yelled, startled as he began to tug her away through the rushes, the vivid 'square'ness of the TARDIS vanishing from view. '_I thought we were getting somewhere then,_' she silently whined, whilst letting a scowl flutter onto her face as she spotted his triumphant smirk. "You never answered my question!"

Glancing back at her over his shoulder, he winked and tugged her ever further through the undergrowth.

"What? Oh … You mean the one about other things being worth looking at?" he asked in mock-confusion.

At her pointed glance, he laughed softly and waved his free hand at the distant horizon, where the first signs of life were beginning to emerge in the early-morning, dewy light, from the little, oddly shaped village many miles away from them. "Why, the _natives_, of course! They're even better looking than those mutli-coloured, multi-shaped clouds up there! Seriously, you'll _love_'em!"

Dragged along behind him, her expression one of total disbelief, Martha glanced skywards, contemplating the clouds, mutely wondering just how oblivious he really was. Or if he really _had_ been about to say something romantic, back there.

Too bad for _her_, she knew the Doctor well enough to know that she was never going to find out the truth.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies for reading! Hope you liked!  
Reviews are shiny, and I love shiny things.**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	7. 050 : Don't Breathe A Word : Spade

**Don't Breathe A Word  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Don't Breathe A Word  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:**# 050 - Spade  
**Word Count:** 409  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** Whatever power he's got over me, he has it in spades. 10Martha, one-shot.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Just a bit of a 10Martha snap-shot moment from Martha's point of view …

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

He's grinning at me.

That wide-eyed, manic and slightly eccentric grin of his that's so adorable I want to run over there and snog him senseless.

Too bad he doesn't think of me like that.

Oh, wait … he's talking to me. What was that?

Where do I want to go?

_Anywhere_, I'll say. I honestly couldn't care less if we ended up in a lost dimension or back at Royal Hope Hospital.

Even another Intergalactic Space Station complete with freakily happy androids that are hell-bent on global domination would be fine by me today. I guess I'm just in one of those moods.

S'all_his_ fault. What with the cheeky grin and the slightly reckless love for excitement that are _way_ too contagious.

Oh, but I never answered, did I?

"Your choice, Doctor. I'm not fussed."

'Cause I'm _not _fussed. If I'm with him, then I'm good.

_Brilliant_, in fact.

I grin at him delightedly, and he's off again, sprinting around the console like a bat out of hell.

How I love to see him like this. With his deliciously ruffled hair and boyishly excited eyes, that love for adventure and the only life he's ever known shining like beacons within them. His brown suit's slightly creased after yet another day's 'run-for-our-lives' shenanigans that apparently aren't over yet, and I can't help but laugh softly to myself.

It's intoxicating.

It's overpowering.

And I'm running around with him now, flicking switches when he indicates and twiddling dials and pressing buttons and … well, generally just flying his ship.

Who'd have thought it, eh? Martha Jones, Space and Time Traveller.

Ten years ago, if somebody had told me they could offer me the entire Universe - any place, any time - I'd have told them to hop on back to whatever mental home they'd escaped from.

But look at me now!

And I'm loving it. Loving it all; the travels, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the places, the aliens, the scares, the celebrations … the company.

I won't pretend. And I won't get my hopes up. I don't expect him to return the favour, because … well, I just don't think that_that_ is who he is.

Who knows? One day, maybe, he'll discover the truth. But until that day, this is perfect.

I'd never admit this out loud, so don't breathe a word to _anyone_ …

But, whatever power he's got over me, he has it in spades.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks for reading! Any comments would be more than welcome!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	8. 054 : Fascinated : Air

**Fascinated****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Fascinated  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 054 - Air  
**Word Count:** 344  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:**There's an air of mystery about the peculiar 'Mr Smith'. Martha muses during S&J.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Set during Smith & Jones. Spoilers for that episode.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

There's an air of mystery about him, something she can't quite pinpoint but is fascinated by, all the same.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that he's got two hearts … well, she _thinks_ he's got two hearts, at any rate, even though that is _completely_impossible.

Or is it the sparkle in his eyes? Something about their swirling depths is just so … _inviting_. Something's drawing her in, calling to her as she stares down at him, silently marvelling at the fact that he's grinning cheekily despite his apparent 'pain'.

Yeah, right.

There's nothing wrong with this guy, she's quite sure of that. Though she_is_ also admittedly known for being a person to give credit where credit's due, and the peculiar 'Mr Smith' is most certainly a brilliant actor. Perhaps a little _too_ good ...

"I_weep_ for future generations. Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?"

Great.

Not only is he smirking at her like he knows _exactly_ what she's thinking, - smirking that Cheshire Cat smirk that's undeniably sexy but also incredibly annoying in its own, tastily fiendish sort of way - but he's gone and made her look like an idiot in front of her fellow soon-to-be-colleagues! …

And yet …

For some reason, she simply _cannot_ bring herself to feel angry about that. Quite on the contrary, in fact. She finds it quite hilarious. Just as _he_ does, she thinks.

There's just something about him. Something she likes. Something she _really_ likes.

Something that's fascinating her.

Walking away with a smile on her face, she glances back one final time to see him still grinning that wide and cheeky grin, watching her as she watches him, eyes twinkling with obvious amusement.

And remarkably enough, she knows that her smile's going to linger, thanks to him, even through Mr Stoker's soon-to-begin unbearably long lecture, an experience that usually has her scowling with boredom before he's even reached his stride.

For that, though she'll never say it to Mr Smith's face, she is eternally grateful.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Hmm … random.**

**Don't know where this came from, but there we go. That goes for most of my fics. (Shrugs)**

**Thanks for reading****, anyway! Any comments would be more than welcome! **

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	9. 057 : Pub Lunching : Lunch

**Pub Lunching****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Pub Lunching  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 057 - Lunch  
**Word Count:** 2'700  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** 'It's a pub lunch, that's all. Not a date, not a promise, and most certainly not domestic. It's just … lunch ... alright?' 10Martha  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:**Set mid-series 3. Minor spoilers. The italics are what happened prior to the non-italics… and if you followed that, have a cyber-cookie.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Martha Jones couldn't quite understand how they'd come to this.

Through no fault of her own - well, through no _direct_ fault of her own, at least, - she found herself smiling in complete bewilderment at the young waitress who was staring almost disbelievingly at her 'husband'.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the girl said slowly, Northern accent rich and sugar-sweet as she treated the couple to her most professionally calm smile, fingers tapping the pencil in her hand absent-mindedly against her notepad. "We don't sell dishes like that, 'ere. Can't say I've ever 'eard of it, mesel'."

The Doctor sighed and nodded in acceptance.

"Ahh well, it was worth a try."

The waitress tugged at her ear, wavy blonde locks beginning to unfurl themselves from what had – during the early hours of the evening - been an incredibly tight ponytail. Martha was beginning to feel rather sorry for 'Lucy', as her name-card read. The girl was quite clearly incredibly flustered.

"You ain't from round 'ere, are you?"

Martha shook her head, smiling calmly. "No, London. We're here to celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Came up to the Lakes for a holiday, but we got a little side-tracked."

The waitress grinned delightedly.

"Aww, and how sweet is that that it fell on Valentine's Day? Aww, congratulations!"

Martha blushed awkwardly and hastily dropped her gaze. Feeling a hand slowly rest on top of hers, she blinked and looked up, smiling awkwardly at the Doctor who winked back before turning back to the waitress.

"Anyway, what was the special, again?"

Promptly returning to her usual, professional manner, Lucy pointed towards the large blackboard standing behind the bar.

"Well, since there's two o' ya, we're doin' a two for one, four course meal for £11.99, - Valentine's Day Special, see, if ya fancy that. Unfortunately, that don't include … well, whatever it is that you asked for. Sounded foreign." She shrugged awkwardly, not even bothering to try to get her tongue around what the Doctor had requested.

"No, I thought as much," he said brightly.

-----------------

"_It's a pub lunch, that's all. Not a date, not a promise, and most certainly not domestic. It's just … _lunch_ … alright?"_

"_Oh, Martha. If only things were ever that simple."_

-----------------

Clearing her throat, Lucy tapped the pencil absently against her cheek and reeled off the starters, voice distinctly professional, all of a sudden. Quite clearly rehearsed, both Martha and the Doctor realised.

"We have … prawn cocktail - comes with a side-salad, o' course, salmon pate on toast, - freshly prepared usin' only the finest ingredients transported straight from the Dales, spicy meatballs on a bed of home-cooked spaghetti doused in a sumptuous tomato and basil sauce, or lemon sorbet - made from locally grown lemons, o' course."

She beamed at them, and Martha couldn't deny that her mouth was watering. With a stunned look at the Doctor, she couldn't suppress a wide grin as she spotted his attention raptly focussed on Lucy as though expecting to hear more.

"I dunno," she said finally, spoilt for choice. The Doctor turned to her and shrugged.

"I'll have whatever you have," he said simply, sitting back in his chair and staring at her, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, you _know_ how bad I am at making decisions, Doctor," she grumbled, missing his cheeky grin as she turned back to Lucy. "Well …" she hesitated, then said, "prawn cocktail. Haven't had that in a while."

She blinked and turned to the Doctor, who grinned and nodded.

-----------------

"_Doctor?"_

"_Hmm?"_

_"I'm hungry."_

_He blinked and turned to her._

"_Oh."_

_Cuffing her feet against the floor and staring at her folded arms, she blushed and asked quickly, "can we go somewhere? Y'know, to eat. Somewhere nice?"_

"_Oh," he said again, scratching at the back of his head before shrugging. "If you want. Where'd you have in mind?"_

_She grinned awkwardly at him, unfolding her arms and strolling around the console._

"_Fancy a pub-lunch?"_

-----------------

"Right, mains," Lucy said, a little apprehensively. The Doctor was positively beaming now, while Martha looked more than a little irritated.

"Oh no," she called quickly, glancing at the Doctor. "This one's _yours_, Doctor."

He stared at her in surprise, smile slipping to be replaced with a, "who, me?" look. She nodded, smirking, and imitated him, leaning back and crossing her arms, staring at him with a somewhat smug look adorning her features.

"Okay," he said calmly, straightening up and fixing Lucy with a beady, attentive stare. "Hit me."

Martha rolled her eyes, a low murmur of, "don't tempt me," escaping her lips before she could bite it back. He glared at her, but spoilt the look a little when a small smile broke out across his face. She chuckled lightly to herself, examining their surroundings, a small fluttering feeling rising up in her chest as she spotted a collection of pink and red heart-shaped balloons floating, bundled together, above the table behind them.

"Well …" Lucy frowned, slightly put-out now. This couple was extremely weird. There was just something … _not normal_ about them. Dearly wishing she'd accepted Janey's suggestion that they swapped shifts, she had to glance at the board herself, having momentarily forgotten what they had on offer.

"Well," she started again, turning back to him, "we've got …"

-----------------

"_A pub lunch?" he asked, restraining a snort with difficulty as he stared at her in bemusement._

_She nodded eagerly, eyes twinkling._

_"Yeah," she said simply, shrugging into her jacket and perching herself on the edge of the Captain's chair, grinning._

_He paused, smiling._

"_You're actually serious, aren't you?" he murmured, shaking his head in wonder._

"_Yeah," she repeated._

_He paused, shrugging._

"_I dunno … you don't think it's a bit … _domestic_?"_

-----------------

Twenty minutes after spooling off the main course menu, Lucy was beginning to feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Staring at Martha, the Doctor shrugged casually.

"You know what? Keep it simple. Steaks, medium rare, all the trimmings, as they say."

Sighing in relief, Lucy nodded, scribbling on her notepad and sweeping her hair from her eyes as she glanced wilfully at the bar. Her colleague, Chris, shot her a bemused look, nodding at the Doctor. She shrugged and glanced at the ceiling in silent prayer, glaring at him when he snorted and returned to wiping out a glass. Scowling, she shook her head and turned back to her clients.

Eyes closed, she asked, mentally wishing she could be _anywhere_ else, "an' … and for desserts?"

Seeing the look the Doctor was giving her - his 'I think it's your turn now' look - Martha let her head bang down hard onto the table, suppressing a groan of annoyance, and sighed heavily.

Lucy appeared to want to do the exact same thing.

Too bad she didn't have a table of her own to do it on. Maybe the wall behind her would work just as well …

-----------------

_Martha raised an eyebrow._

"_What's wrong with domestic?" she asked, puzzled._

_He leant against the console running a hand through his hair._

"_Well … _nothing_, I guess. For a human. It's just … I don't do domestic. Not _well_, at any rate. I'm not a domestic person."_

_Martha was smirking, now._

"_Right," she said, face passive but only through pure determination. Standing again, she walked around the console towards him and placed a hand on his arm._

"_Well, if you're chicken," she started, tones contemplative, "we can do something else."_

-----------------

Before the Doctor could say anything, Martha straightened up and considered Lucy thoughtfully.

"Just … _surprise_ us," she said quickly, knowing the girl was more than desperate to get away from them. "Chocolate's good. We're not fussy. Something with chocolate."

"Righ'," Lucy said softly, choosing not to rebuke Martha's, 'we're not fussy' comment. _She_ may not have been, but her husband most certainly was.

Nevertheless, she'd been presented with an escape route and she was damn well taking it.

"So, we'll be out with your starters as soon as poss. Drinks can be … oh, whatever," she murmured, placing the pencil behind her ear for safe keeping and pointing to the bar. "Just order them over there."

Chris started in surprise as her finger pointed at his chest, silently mouthing 'don't you dare' to her. Sticking out her tongue, she ignored his warning and turned away.

And flashing Martha a disbelieving smile of gratefulness for assisting in her getaway, Lucy promptly nodded to the Doctor and vanished into the kitchens.

-----------------

"_I'm _not_ chicken," he whined, pulling away and retreating around the console._

_She followed him, grin widening._

"_Oh no? Daleks? Easy. Devouring Suns? No problem. One pub lunch? No way. So … if you can face Daleks and devouring Suns, but you can't face one pub lunch, you don't reckon that's being chicken?"_

_Feeling distinctly hot under the collar, he rolled his eyes but remained mute, glaring at the console and circling around it as Martha inched ever closer._

"_See?" she called smugly, pointing at him around the central column. "Chicken!"_

_Irritated, he shook his head, rather as a four-year-old would, and slammed his hand down onto a control, yanking it upright and glaring at her. "_Fine_!" he huffed, flicking switches and sliding the scanner around to eye-level. "Pub lunch? I'll show you a pub lunch. I know just the place … and just the time, too. If we have to do this, we're doing it properly."_

_Gleefully delighted that she'd won, she nodded calmly, pursing her lips to stop herself from laughing out loud at the contempt and resolute look on his face. Twiddling the key around her neck between two fingers, she returned to her seat and watched him in fascinated silence._

-----------------

As soon as Lucy was out of earshot, Martha turned to the Doctor, eyes wide in frustrated disbelief.

"What the _Hell_ was _that_ all about?" she demanded, spotting his sheepish smile and shaking her head.

He scratched at his ear and fiddled with the napkin in front of him.

"I did tell you I don't do domestic," he replied simply, almost as though he wanted to make it quite clear that this whole thing _wasn't_ his idea. Martha rolled her eyes.

"I can see why after that. Twenty freakin' minutes to choose _one_ dish? You're even worse than _I_ am! And _that_ is saying something," she added, downing what was left of her free glass of water. It had been a full glass half an hour ago, and they hadn't even started eating, yet …

-----------------

_Stepping out __of the blue doors in silence, her eyes immediately travelled to the river flying along to their right. They were standing in a car park, the doors to a delightfully quaint-looking public house standing metres away from them._

"_Where are we? It doesn't look like London," she said brightly, glancing back as he locked the door. She was faintly surprised to see him looking more than a little apprehensive, now. He'd been resolutely silent since he'd given in to her, but she'd thought nothing of it until now._

_Surely lunch couldn't be _that_ bad?!_

"_Bradford, West Yorkshire. A bit of a … rather unexpected discovery of mine a while ago. It's rare that West Yorkshire is acknowledged for much, but I can't deny it's a wonderful pub. There's just something about it that's … really inviting."_

_He shrugged and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Again._

_He paused, then added quietly, "and … it's Valentine's Day."_

_Not exactly prepared for that, she blushed scarlet and was momentarily lost for words. When her vocal chords finally agreed to heed her request, she forced out a croaked, "oh," and couldn't restrain a giggle as she spotted his face. "Why'd you pick Valentine's Day?"_

"_Two for one," he said simply, though the look in his eyes didn't quite match his blasé response._

"_Okay," she said carefully, grinning. "Does that mean we're … y'know …"_

_He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, "well, if that's okay with you. We need an excuse. Just tell them we're on our … anniversary, or something."_

_He blinked and turned away._

_Taking pity on him, she thought it best to clear the air. Stepping towards him, she smiled warmly and gripped his hand._

"_It's a pub lunch, that's all," she said softly. "Not a date, not a promise, and most certainly not domestic. It's just … _lunch_ … alright?"_

_He shook his head in disbelief, staring at her gleeful smile and wide-eyed look of innocence with nothing short of amazement. Reaching into a pocket and pulling out two gold rings, he shrugged casually and slipped one onto her finger before sliding the second onto his own._

_He completely missed the look of surprise and unadulterated joy that lit up her face, then. Instead, looping an arm through hers, he sighed and escorted her across the car park._

"_Oh, Martha. If only things were ever that simple."_

-----------------

Two hours later, and they were standing out in the car park, Martha gulping in fresh air and staring at the Doctor as though he'd sprouted a second head.

"Well," she said finally, accepting his hand and strolling across the car park towards the inconspicuously parked TARDIS, standing behind a tall oak tree near the exit.

The Doctor grinned and shook his head a little.

"Yeah," he murmured, fishing through a pocket for the key. "I told you they did nice food."

"That wasn't exactly what I was going to say," Martha replied dryly.

"Oh," he said, stopping and turning to her. "Then what _were_ you going to say?"

She smirked.

"That that was … eventful. Definitely a unique dining experience."

He grinned too, dropping her hand and slipping the key into the lock, glancing over his shoulder to check nobody was watching them.

"It wasn't exactly _bad_, though, was it?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I s'pose not." She paused, then added, "poor Lucy. What exactly did you ask for, when we first got in there? Ever since you said … whatever it was … she's been lost."

He frowned, nodding.

"Oh, Malrichekniquilastrinchia? Never mind. It's a delicacy I've found myself growing rather fond of, served in the Ribnoss galaxy. I kinda didn't expect them to sell it at the George and Dragon but, well, there's no harm in asking."

Martha raised an eyebrow.

"Not _usually_, no," she amended, grinning, "but I think _this_ time you may just have knocked a perfectly capable waitress into confused uncertainty."

"D'you think?" he asked politely, nodding for her to go inside.

But placing a hand on her arm, he held her back instead, a palm against the door while the other rested on her elbow. Staring at her, he smiled cheekily. "So do you accept that I don't do domestic?" he asked brightly.

Martha narrowed her eyes, the truth dawning on her at last.

"You did all that on purpose, didn't you?" she accused, finally getting it. "Confusing Lucy, taking forever to pick one meal, leaving an _impossibly_ ridiculous tip with coins that are by no means British if indeed they're even _human_, disturbing that couple who was sitting behind us by asking them how far it was to the Lake District … you did it all on purpose!"

He nodded, pulling his hand back.

"But do you accept that I don't do domestic?" he asked again, watching as her frustrated smile stretched a little.

"Fine," she murmured. "I can't believe you did all of _that__just_ to prove a _point_!"

He shrugged happily.

"What can I say? Call me a chicken and you see my darker side. I don't like to lose."

"Yeah, I'd noticed," she whispered, staring at his cheeky smile before silently handing him his ring back., staring at it almost wistfully before smiling shyly and dropping her gaze. He took it in silence and pocketed it, grin widening. Turning away, she shook her head in disbelief and retreated into the TARDIS without another word.

He spared a glance for the quaint little riverside pub, and laughed softly.

"Well, how about that?" he murmured, following her in and closing the door behind him. "I win."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Um … don't ask. We had a rather eventful meal at lunch time and I just couldn't resist writing this …**

** Comments welcome!  
**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	10. 066 : The Show Must Go On : Rain

**The Show Must Go On****  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** The Show Must Go On  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 066 - Rain  
**Word Count:** 2'244  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary: **'The Family's been dealt with, and I'm back to normal. Everything is as it was. So why do I feel like there's a part of me still missing?' The rain pours and the Doctor thinks, but it's not the water that's drowning him. Angsty one-shot. Post-'HN' & 'FoB'.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Major Spoilers for 'Human Nature' and 'Family of Blood'. Don't read on unless you've seen them! Or unless you don't care about being spoiled ...

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The rain pours.

I can feel it, cold and wet, soaking through my clothes.

Soaking through my skin.

Chilling the bones.

Chilling the soul.

Martha's looking at me, her eyes tearfully bright and filled to the brim with emotion.

Pure, untainted, _passionate_ emotion.

I don't deserve her concern. I don't deserve _anybody's_ concern.

The Family's been dealt with, and I'm back to normal. Back to being the Doctor. Back to being the Last of the Time Lords.

Back to being a murderer.

"_Answer me this. Just one question … that's all … if the Doctor never visited us, if he'd never chosen this place … on a whim … would anybody here have died?"_

Inside, my hearts are breaking. Martha knows, and she watches, dying to help but at the same time resigned to the fact that she really, _really_ can't.

And I don't want her to. Because I deserve this.

My hair's drenched as I sit here, converses curled into the water-logged grass beneath my shivering body, my arms curled about my drawn-up knees.

I could leave.

Leave right now, leave in the TARDIS and fly somewhere else. Fly _anywhere_ else … anywhere warm and sunny, where I'd have less of a chance of catching pneumonia.

But I won't. Because I deserve this.

Martha's glowering at me, her passionate, brown orbs narrowed in frustration as she runs to my side, deserting the comforting warmth and dryness of the TARDIS in favour of trying to snap me back to my senses.

Silly human.

She should know already that I'm completely aware of what I'm doing, sitting here in the rain, watching as the Westmorland trees sway gently back and forth in front of me.

With nothing but grass - wide, luscious, untainted, grassy fields - stretching out for miles on all sides, I've finally found a moment's peace.

_Just for a moment_ the show stops, and for the first time in a long while, I can think.

I can feel.

My mask slips, as it usually does when these few and far periods resurface; when I can finally give in to the darkness that's consuming my soul from within as the days tick by, second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour.

Martha's crouching next to me, an arm slung reassuringly around my shoulders. She stares at me, her eyes wide and pleading, her dark locks plastered to her face as the rain pummels us both. Her teeth chattering in my ear, I turn to her, eyes portraying my sympathy for her but also showing her just how determined I am to punish myself.

Because Joan was right.

"Doctor?"

I shake my head, knowing full well that she isn't going to like being ignored completely.

But I won't give in. I'm not going back to the TARDIS with her. Not yet.

"You go," I hear myself whisper vaguely, voice little more than a rasping croak. "I just want a minute."

Martha snorts and shakes her head.

"Doctor, you've had a minute! You've had _a hundred and twenty _minutes! How much more of this can you take?"

I pause, frowning, and turn to her at last, eyes red but resolute.

"Enough."

"Well then," she murmurs and falls silent.

I watch, momentarily fascinated, as she drops to the ground properly beside me and huddles deeper into her jacket, make-up running down her face as the onslaught grows and her hair waving about on the gently whirling breeze. She shifts closer to me, and I shake my head, faintly amazed by her stubbornness.

"You'll make yourself ill, Martha," I remind her softly, nodding at the wide-open door of the TARDIS and gently nudging her towards it a little.

She grunts and takes the hit, remaining motionless beside me.

"So will you," she says, eyes burning with determination.

And she's right.

Already, I can feel that something's not how it should be, as the cold and rainwater bleeds into my skin.

But I deserve it.

Silence falls, and the rain pours between us, around us, within us.

It's not heavy, and it's not painful.

But it's persistent, continuously falling, almost as though the Heavens are weeping with a grief that hasn't quite reached its peak, yet.

I don't think either of us knows how much time is passing, as we sit here, motionless, staring out over the grassy slopes, eyes locked onto the swirling waters of Lake Windermere as they flow themselves into a stupor out in the distance.

I turn to her.

She shivers.

A trembling hand rises to her mouth and she coughs, her chest rattling as said coughs become harsher and deeper.

I frown.

"Martha, go back inside."

She shoots me a determined glare and shakes her head resolutely.

"I'll be f-fine in a minute," she chokes out, only to be promptly overcome by another coughing fit. I sigh heavily.

Great. So it seems that to punish myself, I have to punish my companion as well.

Why can't I do anything right? Just for once! Just _once_ I want to make myself suffer, to numb my senses so much that I can forget who I am, forget what I've done, forget the people I've lost.

But no, I can't even do that properly.

The coughs become louder, piercing my ears, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes as I feel her weight fall against me, struggling to support herself through her fit of choking sobs.

Ignoring the falling tears as they mingle in with the raindrops, I place a consoling hand on her shoulder and rub her back gently, all the while whispering to her just how foolish she's being.

"I deserve this, Martha. You don't. _Please_, go inside. I won't be long."

But she ignores me, reigning in her self-control and ceasing the endless, racking coughs with little more than sheer strength of will.

I admire Martha.

So brave, so stubborn. So _human_.

That's what I want to be, I soon realise.

Joan was right.

John Smith was so much braver than me. And that life … the life he could have had … the life he _sacrificed_, just to help me … what I wouldn't give to have a life like that.

The rain continues its relentless downpour, and _I'm_ coughing now. I can feel it, icy against my frozen skin, snaking its way down the back of my neck as I incline my head against the onslaught.

"Why?"

I jump slightly, feeling Martha's weight shift against me as she turns to stare right at me.

"Why what?" I ask, voice hoarse and almost indistinguishable.

"Why do you deserve it?"

I sigh heavily and turn away, gazing out over the emerald fields, tears spilling but unnoticeable against my soaked cheeks.

I falter, rubbing slightly at my eyes as I search for the words she so desperately wants to hear. A dark-skinned, frozen hand gently encircles my own and I draw strength from it, forcing myself to answer her.

"I took somebody else's life, Martha. I took it all away. A chance for love, a chance for a family, a chance for a natural, _normal_ death. I snatched it away from somebody. And I have to pay for that."

Martha shakes her head vigorously.

"Doctor, you haven't stolen anything," she says firmly, teeth chattering slightly but her words strong, regardless. "You took back what was rightfully yours in the first place. You always knew it'd have to end."

I shrug half-heartedly.

"But what about what Joan said?" I whisper, eyes wide and gaze troubled as I tilt my head back, allowing the water to fall straight onto my face, washing away the tears.

I feel her tense beside me, her hand gripping a little harder to my own as her gaze burns straight into my face.

"What did she say?" she asks slowly, and I can tell she's wondering if she really wants to know.

"She was right," I hear myself reply gently, the words pain-racked and pathetically weak. I wince internally, but I can't stop the feelings from overwhelming me.

"I'm a murderer. All those people … an entire village was _bombed_ because I chose it at random. I chose to hide there … I _chose_ to drag that ordinary village into this … and they suffered because of that."

The pain, the horror, the exhaustion …

It's overpowering.

It's crushing.

I feel her scramble to her knees beside me, and in a second she's crouching directly in front of me, a tentative hand reaching out to cup my chin.

I blink and turn away, but she turns me back, eyes wide and urgent, locking with mine in a way that's so entrancing I can't help but meet their impenetrable gaze.

"Doctor, you weren't responsible for that," she says, her look daring me to disagree with her. "The Family were the cause of those deaths, not you. They did it all themselves, and they paid the price. _You _m ade sure of that!"

I shake my head frantically.

"But I _am_! I'm responsible for _everything_, Martha! I shouldn't have run in the first place!"

Silence spirals and I let my eyes slide shut, furious with myself for getting into this.

She frowns, suddenly uncertain.

"What do you mean?" she asks softly, her hand dropping onto my arm.

"I wanted to spare them," I less than whisper. "I didn't want to see them hurt, not really. And that's why I did it. I gave up my heritage, my lives, my _soul_ to try and protect them from myself. I made myself human to spare them. I shouldn't have done that. If I hadn't, none of this would have happened."

But Martha's smiling at me now, a wide, teary smile brightening her rain-drenched features.

"Doctor, you wouldn't be _you_ if you weren't trying to spare everybody from pain and suffering! Even your enemies are worth compassion in your eyes! How can you say what you did was anything less than noble?"

I shake my head again.

"Because it's not. I took the easy way out. I ran from the problem and it cost the half-destruction of a blameless village, the loss of a hundred innocents, and the sacrifice of two ordinary, love-sick human beings! _Me_ being one of them! My only shot at an ordinary life, and I took that away from us both!"

I fall silent, ignoring the rain, ignoring the comforting hand on my arm and ignoring the growing darkness that is beginning to envelop the landscape around us as night falls.

Instead, I close my eyes and search my soul, search for that tiny shred of humanity, the other part of me that I've had to suppress to survive.

"He loved her, Martha," I whisper, hoarsely. "He _really _loved her."

She can sense my fear, my anxiety and shock, my horror at the realisation.

And she nods compassionately.

"I know," she croaks back. I blink my eyes open and shiver violently, the cold finally taking its toll.

But before I can move, she's there, love burning like an all-consuming fire within her auburn orbs.

Lips parted, streaks of mascara running like ink down her cheeks, she speaks so softly that I almost miss it, "but the show must go on."

Reaching out a wobbly hand, I take hers and pull her close, drawing her into a hug so tight I can feel my hearts crushed against my ribs.

Pulling away, she laughs gently and runs a trembling finger over my cheek.

Smiling shyly, I scramble to my feet, pulling her up with me.

"You're freezing," I observe suddenly, watching as her eyes narrow in pain and a hand flies to her head.

"So are you," she says, raising her voice a little over the gently howling winds. The rain pummels us, but we hardly notice it now.

Shaking my head a fraction, I steer her hurriedly towards the open door and usher her inside, sparing the rain a thankful glance before slamming the door shut behind me.

"Come on, a hot shower and a cuppa should do the trick. And I might have an aspirin for your head, somewhere around here too … if you're lucky."

She smiles at me and nods gratefully, wandering off through the corridors, shedding her soaked jacket just before the internal door clicks shut behind her.

My smile dropping, I walk over to the scanner and run a trembling hand through my sodden locks.

The TARDIS bleeps softly, and I reach out to the console, stroking her gently before setting in new coordinates and making for the kitchen myself, satisfied that the TARDIS is safely on her way.

"The show must go on," I murmur, Martha's words ringing in my ears, mingling in with Joan's parting speech before devouring it completely.

"The show must go on."

Outside, high up on a hill overlooking Lake Windermere, a peculiar blue box vanishes from sight as we fly off into space, and as the rain continues to fall, as the Heavens continue to weep, I find myself wondering just how much of my soul has been destroyed by the events of the past few months.

Wondering just how much control - how much _humanity_ - I've lost.

Earth's tears continue to fall, but they're not drowning me. They never were.

No, I'm accomplishing _that _feat pretty well by myself.

For my own emotions are _far_ more overwhelming than a few droplets of rain could ever hope to be.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanks for reading! These episodes were so beautiful! I just felt the need to honour them. And how brilliant was David? So much emotion … Poor dudes. They all did brilliantly!**

**AnyWho, thanks again! Please drop us a line if you've got a mo! **

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	11. 068 : Spirit Lifter : Lightening

**Spirit Lifter  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Spirit Lifter  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones  
**Prompt:** # 068 - Lightening  
**Word Count: **2'830  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** There's a book, it may surprise you to hear, that's completely devoted to lightening the mood of a 900 year old alien from the Planet Gallifrey. Trust Martha to find it by accident. 10Martha.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.  
**Author's Notes:** Post-Gridlock. Minor spoilers for that episode. A bit of a complex one-shot.

**A/N 2:** Yup, another late-night plot bunny. I don't know what it is about the night, but it doesn't half seem to feed my Muse. I'm rather proud of this one, so any comments will be delightful! Sorry for any errors – as I say, it's late.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_v. tr. _** Light-en-ing**  
_ 1. _To lesson the oppressiveness, trouble, or severity of.  
_ 2. _To relieve of cares or worries; gladden.

The Book had grabbed her attention the moment she'd spotted it.

Standing alone and _relatively_ inconspicuous atop a shelf in the TARDIS library - its dust-covered black binding glinting with an aged beauty - its nameless face had been the epitaph of 'intriguing'.

And there, on the first page, flipping open the cover with precise care, Martha had found nothing but the definition, standing alone in the middle of the yellowing page, the parchment upon which the scrawled, amethyst lettering was written seeming as fragile as glass beneath her fascinated fingers.

Glancing over her shoulder at the half-open doorway, she'd hesitated, wondering if the Doctor would miss her. She'd come for a book. Any book, Martha wasn't fussed. She'd said she wouldn't be long, and that she'd bring one back to the Console Room and read it in there while he did 'repairs', or whatever it was he did when his mood slipped.

And it seemed she'd found one, granted not a book she'd originally have chosen to read, but still…

A few minutes of peaceful reading would be guaranteed to her, would they not?

Sinking into a conveniently placed armchair, Martha Jones drew her legs up underneath her body and rested the Book carefully on her thighs, gently running her fingers over the untitled cover before inserting a thumb and flipping it open again, eyes drinking in the 'lightening' definition a second time before she turned the page.

-----------------

Four hours later, and she'd read the entire thing.

A broad smile on her face, she glanced at her watch before bolting to her feet in shock, snapping the Book shut and carefully sliding it back onto its dusty shelf. Running down an aisle, Martha plucked a different book at random from another, slightly less-dirty shelf and hurried from the library in silence, the door clicking itself gently closed behind her.

-----------------

He'd asked her where she'd got to.

She'd told him she'd fallen asleep in the library.

He'd bought it, telling her calmly that he'd managed to 'reconfigure the stasis controls' and 'alter the matrix in such a way that it'll allow for random co-ordinational search journeys'. Or something.

She'd switched off after that, mind drifting to the pages she'd been thoroughly engrossed within minutes before.

And for a moment, she'd found herself wondering if he even knew of the Book.

Then she realised that if he _did_ know of it, he wouldn't be so neurotic. And wouldn't be so psychotically chipper in the moments when he _wasn't_ neurotic. And wouldn't have the strangest, most hormonal mood swings of anyone she'd ever met.

Quite obviously, she admitted to herself, he knew _absolutely nothing_ of the Book.

Her little secret, then.

-----------------

She'd returned to the library again, that night.

Not quite prepared to whisk the Book from its surroundings and read it in the comfort of her room, she'd caved and improvised, bringing with her a cup of tea and reading by candle-light, appropriately enough, a small but sufficient wax candle resting on the side-table beside the leather armchair.

Dressing gown hanging down over her shoulders as she became absorbed once again in the violet-coloured-ink handwritten words splayed out before her, she'd finished the Book a second time three hours later.

A bright smile on her exhausted features, she'd replaced it, much as the first time, onto its shelf and hastily departed for her room, marvelling slightly at how vivid each page was beginning to become for her, even when she _wasn't _pouring over it.

-----------------

He'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He'd heard her frequent yawns and watched in silence as she raised a wobbly hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to disguise them.

And he'd asked if she was okay.

She'd replied that she'd slept badly the night before.

He'd bought it.

Sinking into a stupor as he prepared breakfast, she'd found herself wondering vaguely if he'd agree to letting them have a 'lazy day'.

Much to her surprise, he'd agreed almost immediately, placing a full-English breakfast down in front of her before helping himself to her bacon, telling her he could get on with some more 'maintenance' and she could catch up on the sleep she'd apparently lost the previous night.

She'd nodded her thanks and eaten promptly, talking when he encouraged her to, but otherwise devouring her breakfast in silence.

And with a suppressed yawn, she'd smiled a grateful smile at him and vanished from the room.

Heading for the library again.

-----------------

It only took her an hour and a half to read from cover to cover, that time.

And as the broad smile had stretched the entire width of her face, she'd realised, then, just what the Book was doing to her.

Returning it to its home, Martha had quelled the butterflies in her stomach and swiftly steered herself from the room, collapsing on her bed minutes later only to give herself up to the darkness, the content smile lingering.

-----------------

He'd asked her what she was so happy about.

She'd said she'd had a good night's sleep – well, good _day's _sleep, really - and felt much better for it.

He'd bought it.

She'd sensed his mood and later discovered that he was feeling homesick.

He'd told her of Gallifrey, of the War and the fight against the Daleks during their time in New New York, but he'd never admitted weakness before. Biting back tears, he shrugged sadly and sank onto the sofa, staring almost wistfully at the console, as though hoping it could magically take him back to his planet, if only for a minute.

Just to see it, in all its glory, one more time. One _final_ time.

Vowing not to return to the Book that night, she'd spent the evening with him, the two of them curled onto the sofa, Martha leaning against his chest, soothed by the double-heart-beat beneath her cheek as he gently stroked her hair. They'd simply sat there, watching as the emerald column rose and fell before them, its iridescent light dancing like fireflies around the Console Room.

She'd fallen asleep there, her last conscious thought a delighted realisation that she'd done just as page two had suggested.

-----------------

After the fourth reading (which only took an hour and a quarter), she'd accepted the fact that she knew it by heart.

Automatically replacing the Book on its no-longer dusty shelf, she'd smiled fondly at it and left the library again, glancing back at where its bookcase stood for a second before pulling the door closed and meandering through the maze of corridors towards the Console Room, humming to herself.

-----------------

Running from a family of blood-thirsty dragons on a distant and ancient planet, they'd found themselves hiding together in an old, abandoned farm house, the odd creak of the windmill sounding in their ears as their feet silently boiled, dragons torching the barns around their hideout in anger that their prey had escaped.

Thinking they were done for, he'd confessed to her at last, told her all about 'Rose' and their relationship as they leant side by side against a gradually-heating-up wall, listening to the furious roars of their pursuers and the frequent rustles of mighty wings as the dragons swooped and dived around outside.

She'd listened.

Listened in silence, drinking in _every single word_, an arm wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders as he silently trembled, tears leaking beyond his notice as he spoke of the events at Torchwood One, the pain of remembrance too much for him to handle alone.

She'd learned about Addie, that day, too.

Learned about how the Cybermen had taken her, and of how he'd had to … well, do what he did. How he'd done it to help her. To save her.

And while a tiny part of her wanted to be angry with him for killing her cousin – even though she fruitlessly told that tiny part of her it '_wasn't even his fault' _and that '_the Cybermen had killed Addie _long_ before he could'_ – she ignored her own worries and bit back her own tears.

She'd told herself that they could wait.

And as he'd gone on to describe his and Rose's final goodbye, the goodbye that was left unfinished and the words that were left unsaid, she'd listened.

Under siege from angry dragons on a foreign planet, hiding together in a stranger's house and leaning against a brick wall that was slowly melting under the pressure that their fire-breathing pursuers were putting it under, she'd listened.

-----------------

Hours later, after realising that they _weren't_ done for, he'd apologised for going all 'manic depressive' on her. And he'd thanked her.

Thanked her for listening.

She'd told him to think nothing of it.

She _hadn't_ added that page thirty-three had suggested it beforehand.

-----------------

The fifth reading took her an hour and four minutes, though partly to blame was a sudden craving for chocolate that had struck about two hundred pages in. She'd given in and vanished to the kitchens, returning a couple of minutes later with a bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk and another cup of tea.

The rest of the reading had been plain sailing.

-----------------

He'd asked her where she kept vanishing off to.

She'd told him the truth, albeit partially, telling him she'd found great entertainment in reading, lately.

He'd bought it, smiling to himself at that, nodding his agreement and commenting quietly that he'd have to get around to cleaning out the library properly, some day. 'The dust just doesn't do it justice,' he'd said, shaking his head sadly.

Martha had silently agreed.

Then she'd offered to help him.

He'd smiled at her warmly but then shaken his head, telling her it'd take a millennium at least for him to clear it out to a decent, _worthy_ standard.

He'd politely declined her offer, yet the thanks in his eyes had said more.

Just _asking_ had been more than enough.

She'd let the day pass as it wished, then, deciding that it hadn't been a wasted one, after all. For she'd successfully accomplished page three-hundred-and-twenty-six's suggested task.

-----------------

The days had passed, and it had gone on.

She would read the Book in silence, smiling in delighted confidence as she replaced it delicately, almost _lovingly_ onto its shelf.

Then with her spirits at an all-time high, the buzz the Book had given her running like poison through her veins, she'd feel a sudden need to pass it on.

And with her only company being the Doctor, it wouldn't take her long to find somebody to pass it on _to._

Every day, she'd follow just one of the Book's many instructions, mentally reciting just _one _of its hundred-fold pages before acting upon it.

And every night, she'd sleep soundly, knowing that she'd done what she could to help him. Knowing she'd made him smile, if only _once_ that day.

Once was enough.

If he'd ever suspected, he'd never asked.

And she'd never said.

-----------------

Three weeks in, down to the day - three complete weeks since she'd first discovered it - and Martha had returned to the library again, just as she had done every day bar that first one.

But she'd returned to find the Book was no longer there.

She'd completely upended the entire library before admitting defeat, tears welling over a '_book_', of all things.

Biting back a sob, she'd run from the room, slamming the door shut behind her with enough force to send the layer of dust that had gathered on the library floor over the years jumping skywards before floating back down and settling again.

-----------------

He'd asked her why she was so upset.

She'd simply clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder, already feeling the weight of the Book's absence in her heart as she gripped painfully tightly to the arm that was resting comfortingly around her.

She'd felt him smile into her hair, apparently content to just sit with her while she composed herself, over the moon that she'd come to him in the first place.

And in doing so, she'd successfully but inadvertently achieved the goal set down on page one-hundred-and-eight-five.

'_Prove to him you need him._'

-----------------

Three more weeks had passed, and she'd soon come to realise that she could remember less and less of the Book's passages with every passing day.

And yet not a day went by when she hadn't _somehow _made the Doctor smile.

The Book may have gone, with her memories of it slowly following one by one, but she hadn't given up on the task she'd set herself during all those delightful readings.

-----------------

Weeks later _still_ … and she'd forgotten the Book completely.

-----------------

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a pen tapping absent-mindedly at her teeth as she studied the Doctor's abandoned crossword, she frowned and reached for a dictionary.

"To relieve of cares or worries … ten letters, first letter - 'L'," she said out loud, a small, concentrating frown creasing her forehead.

The Doctor's head popped up from beneath a floor panel, a medley of wires and cables clutched in one hand while the Sonic was carefully enclosed within the other.

"Lightening," he answered immediately, shooting her a small smile.

She raised an eyebrow.

"If you knew that, how come you didn't write it in?" she enquired dryly.

He shrugged.

"Must have missed it," he replied, sinking back into the hidden depths of his ship. Martha rolled her eyes in silent disbelief and promptly set about filling in the blanks on his crossword.

Curling the 'g's tail with a flourish, she felt her smile slip clean away as her pen dropped into her lap, eyes fixed on the word staring up at her from off the page.

'Lightening' …

With a flash, she recalled an ancient, dusty tome, hundreds of pages long, it's first parchment page glistening with amethyst words … a definition to a word she'd never have expected to find a book solely dedicated to.

Her bright smile returning, she carefully folded the paper in half and climbed to her feet, strolling around the console towards the Doctor. Crouching beside the open grate, she grinned down at him.

"Doctor?" she called quite calmly, smiling innocently as he straightened up and studied her dubiously. She paused, then said, "I think I have something you may want to know about."

"Oh?" he replied airily, eyes narrowing slightly. "That sounds ominous."

Struggling out of the hole and gripping her hand for balance before finding his footing and leaning against the console, eyes on her and a small smile tugging at his lips, he waited as she stared at the word looking up at them from the folded newspaper on the seat behind her.

"Well, not exactly _ominous._ See … it's about a Book …"

-----------------

A day later, she returned to the library again.

The Book wasn't there, not that she'd expected it would be.

Instead, there was a slip of paper, sitting alone on the shelf where the Book had once stood. Curious, she plucked it from its lofty perch and blew the dust clear, staring at the parchment with raised eyebrows, recognising the purple hand-writing immediately.

For it was quite identical to the tidy hand that had scripted the mysterious Book's many detailed passages.

Her smile stretching, she read it in silence, dropping into the armchair and glancing momentarily at the half-open door before giving the note her full attention.

'_The Spirit Lifter.  
A companion's guide to all things 'Doctor'.  
To those who need a starting point, the Book is there to guide. But to those who have the gift themselves, it need not hang around. Digest the words and drink in the feelings it gives, but don't forget to pass them on to the one who needs them most.  
Remember not its teachings, for there are too many, _far_ too many to learn. But if you can make him smile but once a day, the Book has served its purpose a thousand-fold._'

Read and understood, the note was replaced onto its shelf, and Martha left the library beaming, a finger absently curling a stray lock of hair as she pulled the handle after her to close the door behind her.

But before it could click shut, the note was gone.

-----------------

A week later, and nether Martha nor the Doctor remembered even remotely of her mystifying Book.

But curled up together on the sofa, staring at the column as it gently rose and fell before them, its iridescent light bouncing around the room like a family of fireflies, Martha had the distinct impression that he was smiling as he ran his fingers gently through her hair, the soothing double-heart-beats beneath her cheek more than assuring her of his present contentment.

So here was another day when she'd managed to lighten his spirits.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies for reading! Again, comments are more than welcome:)**

**And if you actually managed to follow this, have a cyber-cookie.  
Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	12. 085 : Don't Matter : She

**Don't Matter  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title: **Don't Matter  
**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2007)  
**Characters:** The Tenth Doctor, Martha Jones & Rose Tyler (Memories of)  
**Prompt: **# 085 - She  
**Word Count: **5'029  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** Two damaged hearts, one depressing song. Martha Jones finally finds out about Rose, and for the first time since Bad Wolf Bay, the Doctor's hearts are healing.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC. I don't own the lyrics that are scattered about throughout this; those belong to Akon. Love this song ... (sniff)  
**Author's Notes:** Inspired by 'Don't Matter', by Akon. Very 10Martha, but a lot of 10Rose thrown in for healing purposes, as well. Post Family of Blood, so expect spoilers ...

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

'_Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no._'

The Sonic dropped to the floor with an echoing clatter, and the Doctor's head emerged from a floor panel in the Console Room.

Ears pricked up, he stared around the room, finally taking note after four hours of the absence of a certain travelling companion of his.

'_Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter no, 'cause I got you babe._'

Struggling out of the floor with a groan, he dusted himself down and stared at the console, frowning.

"Where is she, old girl?" he murmured.

There was a soft bleep from the console and one of the scanners flared into life, depicting a camera shot of just outside Martha Jones' bedroom, her door closed and a painted 'Do Not Disturb' sign swinging gently from the handle.

"Oh," he said, eyebrows knotted together in confusion.

The lights flickered ominously, and the Doctor paused, staring up at the ceiling in concern.

"What? Does she not want to see me, or something?" he asked, frowning.

The lights dimmed slightly, and the Doctor had the distinct impression his ship was feeling rather miserable, right now.

Another soft beep resonated around the room and he half-gasped, the meaning loud and clear;

'_Maybe now isn't the best time, Doctor. I think she wants to be alone._'

The Doctor hesitated, sorely tempted to heed his ship's warning and return to his repairs, hoping that if Martha _wasn't_ alright, she'd be able to sort herself out on her own.

But his compassionate side and his desire to provide comfort won out against the cautions.

Frowning, the Doctor followed the muffled sounds of music through the corridors, wondering what had triggered a sudden desire to listen to what sounded distinctly like a rather depressing song.

Who knew? Maybe he'd left Martha alone for too long. He'd said he had some repairs to do, not feeling completely up to running for his life yet again after everything they'd been through with the Family.

And she'd agreed in a heart-beat, saying she fancied a break too. As far as he could tell, she'd seemed fine at the time.

But that had been four hours ago.

And he hadn't seen her since. With a small smile, she'd retreated off into the depths of the TARDIS, and silence had fallen within the mysterious blue box.

''_Cause we gon' fight, oh yes we gon' fight, believe we gon' fight._'

The melodic tunes weaving their way silently into his hearts, he faltered at her door, eyes wide and the first glints of hidden pain beginning to blossom within the swirling, timeless depths.

'_Fight for our right to love, yeah.  
Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no, 'cause I got you._'

Reaching out tentatively for the handle, he paused and changed his mind, deciding to knock first out of respect.

The sound almost lost to the words drifting out through the walls, he rapped his knuckles gently against the wood and stepped a little closer to the door.

"Martha?" he called softly. "You okay?"

There was a moment's silence.

"F-fine," she whispered back, her response barely carrying through the door it was so quiet. Her voice shook, and immediately, the Doctor knew that something was wrong.

"Can I … can I come in?" he asked, tones warm and pleading.

He could almost imagine her shrugging in response, but she offered him an answer just in case he hadn't actually seen her shoulders raise in disinterest.

"If you want."

Holding his breath without knowing exactly why he was so nervous, he slowly pushed the handle down and leant against the door, sending it gliding inwards.

'_Nobody wanna see us together, nobody thought we'd last forever  
I feel I'm hopin' and prayin' things between us don't get better._'

The lights were low, and a handful of lit candles were sitting precariously on top of her desk, their soothing glow filtering out like mist around the room. Stepping over the threshold, the Doctor caught a faint whiff of what smelt distinctly like lavender and rosemary, and he felt a tiny smile touch the corners of his lips. It was always fascinating to see how his companions made rooms their own when they stayed with him.

But his smile slipped as he finally spotted her, sitting silently on her four-poster bed, scarlet bedspread smooth and devoid of creases of any shape or size, her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn up into her chest with her chin resting on top of them. She was clutching to a small black cat, whiskers bent and fur patchy and frayed after so many years of wear and tear, simply staring out into space.

'_But just know that I tried to always apologize,  
And I'ma have you first always in my heart to keep you satisfied._'

The Doctor closed the door softly behind him and finally she blinked and looked up, eyes red and faint tear tracks standing out against her dark skin.

"Oh, what's the matter?" he asked her gently, moving across to sit beside her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her unresisting form into his chest.

She shrugged half-heartedly, the tears having long since dried themselves into nothingness.

"It doesn't matter, s'not important," she murmured, absently stroking the toy cat in her arms and staring at the tendrils of smoke curling up into the air from the inscents stick beside her collection of candles.

"If something's upsetting you, then it's important," he told her firmly, rubbing absently at her shoulders.

'_Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no,_  
'_Cause I got you, babe._'

Martha sighed heavily. Well, she'd thought she couldn't cry anymore. But the tears stinging at her eyes had quite obviously disproved _that_ theory.

"Aww, c'mere," he breathed, strengthening his embrace around her and leaning his head against hers. "What's up? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

But his hearts were racing, now. The mood, the song, the tears … it didn't take a genius to work out why his companion was sitting distraught beside him.

And he didn't think he was exactly prepared for this. Not now, not after everything they'd just been through.

'_Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no,_  
'_Cause I got you, babe._'

'_Stupid song_,' he thought glumly as Martha sniffed beside him, squeezing the poor cat so hard the Doctor was quite sure it's glass eyes were seconds from popping out of the synthetic fur.

Placing a soothing hand on top of hers and rubbing gentle circles across it with his thumb, he tilted her head to face him.

"Trust me," he said, "and tell me."

She shrugged again, pulling her hand away and rubbing angrily at her eyes.

"I can't," she said weakly. "It ain't fair on you."

He shook his head, a shadow of a smile ghosting across his features for the second time in as many minutes.

"There's no need to protect me from anything, Martha. I've got 900 years more experience with these things than you have. And you can bet that in that time, I've played tissue for a fair few acquaintances, so don't worry about that."

She almost smiled at that.

Almost.

Turning to him, she sighed heavily and shook her head a fraction.

"It's just … it's just that …"

Hesitating, she sighed again in exasperation and muttered, "just that time of the month," feeling a blush rise up in her cheeks as she turned away and slowly relinquished her grip on the stuffed cat.

Well, it had been half true …

It wasn't exactly the reason she was upset, but _he_ didn't need to know that, right?

Blushing too, the Doctor faltered, caught off guard by that little revelation.

"Oh," he said, smiling. "Hormones, huh?"

But he didn't sound particularly convinced.

And Martha knew as much, but she decided to nod in agreement anyway.

"I get like this sometimes," she told him. '_Again, it's half-true,_' she thought, mentally berating herself. "Find myself with cravings for soppy love songs and a big tub of chocolate ice-cream. Couldn't find the ice-cream though, so I had to settle for a compromise."

She forced a smile, and nudged him gently in the side, stretching out her legs and placing the cat down on the bed beside her. "Anyway, I'll probably be alright in a few minutes, if you wanted to get back to … well, whatever it was you were doing."

'_We gon' fight, fight for our right to love, yeah,  
Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no._'

The Doctor stared at her, eyes alive with question and concern. She brightened her smile a little, silently hoping it had reached her eyes this time, and squeezed his hand.

"Honest," she breathed. "I'm fine. Girl problems, s'all. Nothing you'd find interesting."

"Well, if you're sure," he said back, unsatisfied but deciding he could hardly push her into talking. And deep down, knowing full well what was on her mind but trying to ignore it regardless, a tiny part of him was relieved.

But he quelled his relief after rising to his feet and making for the door, only to turn back and stare at her, shaking his head resolutely and walking back over to her side.

"No," he said firmly. "I want to know."

Immediately wondering if he'd just made a terribly bad move as he spotted her wide-eyed stare, he tried to ignore the forming droplets of water that were piercing the corners of her eyes.

Shaking away his self-doubting, he reached out and gripped her shoulder.

"Please, Martha," he murmured gently, "I _want_ to know. Tell me what's wrong."

Sighing heavily again, Martha retrieved her teddy and stood up, standing beside the desk and staring intently at the small speakers that were plugged into her ipod.

Small they may have been, but the sounds were incredible.

'_Got every right to wanna leave, got every right to wanna go,  
Got every right to hit the road and never talk to me no more._'

"I do, don't I?" she murmured, eyes closed and a hand running through her hair.

The Doctor blinked and looked up, surprised.

"Do what?" he asked, frowning.

"Have every right to want to leave."

His throat constricting, the Doctor stared at her in shock, fully accepting just where this conversation was heading. If he'd had doubts before, he certainly didn't now.

"Oh," he less than whispered, the sound having to be forced from his throat.

She turned to him and opened her eyes, one solitary tear snaking its way down her cheek.

"I'm not Rose, Doctor. I never was. I never will be. And it just isn't good enough for you, is it?"

His turn to close his eyes in pain this time, he bit his lip and remained silent, unable to think of anything to say to that.

"God knows I've tried," she went on, hugging the cat closer to her chest, rubbing her chin absently against the black fur and speaking into it, her voice muffled a little, but the words clear regardless. "I've tried everything to help you, to show you that you're not on your own. But you never seem to notice."

She half-laughed, raising her head again.

"Y'know, so many times I've seen you look at me with such delight, such wonder, such compassion, and for a _fleeting_ second, I let myself think that it's real …" Her laugh died, and her face fell. "But it's not, is it? You're not seeing _me_. You're remembering Rose. Always Rose."

The silence spiralling, Martha knelt down and rewound the song a little, the verse fluttering into her ears, her gaze lifting to the Doctor's face as the truth of the words bit into her soul.

'_You don't even have to call, even check for me at all,  
Because the way I been actin' lately has been off the wall.  
Especially toward you, puttin' girls before you,  
And they watchin' everything I been doin' just to hurt you._'

"Y'know, Tish got me into this song, when we were there before. At Lazarus' party, I mean. We got talking about stuff before it all kicked off; friends, family, love lives and music and stuff … and she mentioned this one and said I should download it. I told her I hated love songs usually. 'Too like real life', I said." She chuckled humourlessly and wrapped her arms around her chest protectively.

The Doctor raised his head and nodded.

"How right you were," he said quietly.

She shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes betrayed her unconcerned mask.

"Tell me about her, Doctor," she whispered, tones pleading, finally turning to him again, red eyes gleaming with sadness and the tiniest hint of curiosity.

'_Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no,_  
'_Cause I got you babe.._'

She reached up and depressed the pause button, immediately sending a blanket of silence falling around them, the stillness uncomfortably suffocating after the gentle melody of music.

Returning to the bed and sitting down beside him, her legs hanging over the edge and a hand interlocking with his, she paused and finally said, "tell me about Rose."

He tensed visibly, and his eyes betrayed his feelings, despite his vain attempts to remain calm and collected on the outside.

"Why?" he asked, frowning. '_Why now? I'm not ready for this, Martha! _Really,_ I'm not!_'

Not that he told her that, of course.

Martha paused, considering her response.

"Because I'm sick of feeling useless. I'm sick of being second best. And I want to know the truth. I want to know why I can't make you see that even though she's gone, you've still got people who care about you. And the only reason I'm feeling like this is because you never say. You just … you _refuse_ to talk! And I think talking is the only thing that's going to help us both."

The Doctor shrugged this time, his eyes glazing over as he stared off into space, the faintest flicker of pain burning bright within them before he could cover it up.

"I don't know what to say," he said at last, honestly lost for words.

"_Anything_," Martha said, squeezing his hand, her own tears evaporating.

She'd had her turn.

It was _his_ turn, now.

"Where did she live? Where did she work? Did she have parents? A boyfriend? A _girl_friend, even? Was she clever? Was she funny? Was she old, young, human, alien? Just … _anything_."

The Doctor paused, a lump rising in his throat and his hearts thudding like drums beneath his chest.

"Well … Rose Tyler," he said softly, voice cracking. "What to say? Rose Tyler, cockney shop assistant, only daughter of a widowed Jackie Tyler and a deceased Pete Tyler, steady girlfriend of Mickey Smith. Well," he shook his head sadly, tears threatening but remaining back as he refused to let them fall, "that was until she met me."

"Where is she now?" Martha asked calmly, already painting a picture in her mind of the girl who'd stolen the Doctor's hearts.

"Safe. Happy. With her family. Living her life. She's getting a sibling, last I heard from her."

"Step-sibling," Martha corrected automatically, but the Doctor shook his head, grinning cheekily at her naivety.

"Nope, full sibling. Pete's still alive where they are."

Martha's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"But you said her father was dead," she reminded him. He nodded.

"He was … he _is_ … but not in their Universe."

Stumped, Martha remained silent, hoping he'd elaborate. After a second, he granted her wish.

"You remember Canary Warf?" he murmured, smile fading clean from existence. Martha immediately thought of her cousin, Addie, and nodded, feeling her melancholy mood drop another two notches.

"Well … like I told you before, I was there. _We _were there."

He stared at the flickering flames, apparently mesmerised by their dancing lights, and continued, voice hoarse and gaze fixed.

"The Cybermen weren't ours," he said. "_None_ of it was ours. There's another Universe, one Rose, Mickey and I found ourselves stuck in a while ago. A Universe with zeppelins … where Mickey's Gran was still alive … where Rose's parents were rich, successful, and damn near divorced. But they didn't have a daughter, so Rose didn't exist over there. Well, Jackie'd named a dog Rose, but Rose herself didn't really find that too funny."

He smiled at the memory, but it didn't last long.

"We thought _then_ that we'd dealt with it," he went on. "The Cybermen, I mean. A guy called Lumic had redesigned them and intended to upgrade all humans. It was a vain attempt to save himself from a death he feared, but it backfired. We killed him, in the end."

Faintly unnerved by the offhand way he'd said that, Martha remained silent.

"But unfortunately, we didn't take out all of the Cybermen. I left it in Mickey's hands, after he decided to stay over in that Universe rather than return with us, and me and Rose moved on. As far as I was aware, Mickey had stayed behind to deal with the rest of the factories. But according to Pete - when we met up again at Canary Warf after he zapped me back into his Universe despite it being impossible from our side – people had started to argue against destroying the rest of the Cybermen, claiming that they were still human beings."

"So, you're on about Pete ... as in Rose's father, who was alive in this other Universe?" Martha clarified. The Doctor nodded, a tiny smile blossoming as he thought of just how quick-minded his companion really was. Then he went on, his smile fading again.

"It turned out that the Daleks had broken through a fault line that Torchwood – the place where your cousin worked – had caused after discovering a hole in the Universe. They'd been firing God knows what at this spot for ages, and finally, a Dalek void ship had broken through it completely. Well, seeing a way out, the Cybermen decided to follow, walking straight out of one Universe and into this one."

Martha nodded, shuddering, a blazing image of a patrol of giant silver monsters parading down the street outside her bedroom window.

"Well … we fixed it in the end. The parallel Jackie had been killed the first time we went to their Universe, and when Pete finally came into ours … well, talk about unusual reunions. He took Jackie back with him, and Mickey too. I'd tried to send Rose back, but she wouldn't go."

"Why did you send her away?" Martha asked quietly.

"I needed to close the breech. And to do that, I had to seal off the hole that Torchwood had made. And I thought, well, whilst doing that, I might as well get rid of the Daleks and Cybermen at the same time. Because both had travelled through the void – a blank space between the two dimensions – they were soaked in the stuff, so when the hole was open, they'd be sucked straight back into it."

Getting the picture, Martha nodded glumly.

"And I take it … Rose was covered in it too after visiting the Universe the first time?" she asked softly.

The Doctor nodded, shaking his head.

"So I sent her with Pete. But she came back anyway."

Martha half-smiled.

"Stubborn, was she?" she asked, a tiny laugh making it into her voice. He nodded back, smiling.

"Though," he went on, grinning, "not _nearly_ as stubborn as you are. Remember what I told you? Back in New New York? I've never told that to anyone. Even _Rose_ never knew about my home planet."

His face fell, and he suddenly looked as old as his age, eyes exhausted and burning with a thousand tales. A thousand memories of regret.

"But you wish you'd told her."

It wasn't a question.

And at his silence, Martha nodded, reaching an arm around his shoulders and hugging him with what little comfort she could offer.

"Anyway, she told me she'd made her mind up. Said she'd readily give up a life with the family she'd not had since she was a little girl just to keep me company. And being the foolish prick that I am, I let her stay."

He shook his head in dismay.

"I should have said no. It would've been so much easier if she'd just _listened_ to me the first time!"

"Why? What happened?" Martha asked, wondering if she really wanted to know anymore.

He sighed heavily, the pain of remembrance stinging his hearts.

"She fell," he said softly. "Trying to keep things going on her side, she fell. And for a few seconds there, I was itching to fall into the void with her."

Martha gasped. Swallowing, she stared at him in shock, and frowned.

"But … but you said she wasn't dead. If she fell into the void … wouldn't she be dead?"

He shook his head.

"Well … not exactly dead, but for all intents and purposes we'll treat it as that. But she didn't actually reach the void. Pete saved her."

Martha felt a smile blossom on her lips.

"So, her Dad from another Universe hopped in at the last minute and saved her, whisking her away to his Universe and …"

But she fell silent, smile of delight dropping. The Doctor nodded glumly, tears leaking from his eyes and sliding down his pale cheeks.

"And the hole was sealed, trapping her there," he finished, voice barely above a whisper.

Mutely mortified, she shivered despite the heat of the room and scrambled to her feet, clinging to a bedpost for support.

"And …" she rasped, voice hoarse and thick with emotion, "and you couldn't even say goodbye?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

"I did eventually," he said. "Though it wasn't much of a goodbye. I couldn't even tell her …" but his voice was lost, shoulders shaking with sadness and regret. He shook his head. "That's when she told me about her mum being pregnant again. For a minute there, from the way she said it, I thought she meant _she_ was," he chuckled sadly.

Martha smiled too, hers a tad more genuine than his had been.

"And that's when she told me ... told me she l-l …" but he couldn't say it. The tears were falling relentlessly now and Martha crouched in front of him, abandoning her need for support and placing a comforting hand on his knee, the other gripping to his hand so tightly that she was faintly surprised his fingers hadn't broken under the pressure.

She didn't need him to say it.

And he couldn't say it anyway.

"Why couldn't you tell her?" she asked softly.

He laughed miserably.

"I ran out of time," he cried, a hand flying to his head and sweeping over his no-longer-weeping eyes. "Me! A Time Lord! The last of the Time Lords … and I ran out of time."

Martha nodded dumbly, hesitating.

And finally throwing caution to the winds, she jumped up and threw her arms around his shoulders in a bone-crushing hug.

"I am _so_ sorry," she whispered, her words honest and heart-felt. "I'm so, _so_ sorry," she murmured again. "That isn't fair."

He half-laughed.

"No, it's not, is it?"

"B-but …" Martha pulled away and stared directly at him. "But I'm _sure_ she knew. Don't think just because you never said it she wouldn't know how you felt about her. She _must_ have done."

'I _would have known,_' she thought to herself, lips tightly closed to prevent said thought from escaping in a mad rush to voice her opinion on the matter.

He shrugged half-heartedly, wiping angrily at his cheeks to rid them of the tears.

"Yeah well, what's done is done," he said, feeling slightly better than he had in a long time.

He'd never tell her, but talking had helped.

A lot.

He couldn't tell her, though. He'd never live it down …

Instead, he cleared his throat and gently eased her away. She took the hint and let go.

"What … what was that song?" he asked softly, rising to his feet and wandering shakily towards her desk, flicking the 'play' button and jumping a little at the abruptness of sound.

'_Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no,_  
'_Cause I got you._'

Martha half-smiled.

"Don't Matter, by Akon" she whispered, eyes staring wistfully at the candles before her as she let the words flutter yet again into her heart.

''_Cause we gon' fight, oh yes we gon' fight, believe we gon' fight,  
Fight for our right to love, yeah.  
Nobody wanna see us together, but it don't matter, no,_  
'_Cause I got you._'

"Martha?"

Martha blinked and looked up, staring at the Doctor's red eyes and contemplative expression.

"Yeah?" she asked gently, as the final remnants of the song's chorus faded from the room.

He spared her a pleading glance, before staring at the candles in imitation of her a few moments before.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Martha asked, frowning and reaching out to turn off her ipod before the next song could burst into life.

He stared at her sadly, shaking his head, more at himself than anything.

"For … well, for putting Rose before you. I don't mean to," he told her, his words wavering a little but no less sincere. "Honestly I don't. It's just … well, I guess I haven't fully accepted it all yet. There's still a part of me that thinks she's gonna come running into the room when I call for her. I don't mean to sound … well, like a prick, I s'pose … which is why I just want you to know that I'm grateful. So, _so_ grateful that you're here. It means a lot to me. More than I can say, in fact."

She nodded sadly.

"I've accepted it," she said simply, though it tore her heart to shreds to admit it. "There's never going to be anything else between us. You loved her. I can't change that. All I can do is learn to live with it."

He tensed, mentally shouting that she shouldn't _have_ to deal with anything at all.

She was avoiding his gaze now, her eyes fixed to the dying puffs of spiralling mist that were thinning out as her inscents stick finally breathed its last breath.

"You know ..." She paused, shrugging her lack of interest even though inside she couldn't be feeling more on edge, "what I said before ... back when you were, you know ... _him_ ... well, like I said before, I'd have said _anything_ to get you to change back."

The Doctor half-nodded, but reached out for her hand before the motion was fully justified.

"Martha ... I know you meant it. There's no need to pretend you didn't. And I _know_ what you're wanting from me, and I'm sorry I can't give it to you. Believe me, if I could, I would. But I can't. Not yet. Not now."

He stared at her, almost imploringly, begging her to understand that he wasn't pushing her out because he wanted to, but because he _had _to. To keep them _both_ safe.

He studied her, taking in the pain behind her eyes, the quiver in her voice and the graceful air with which she'd spoken.

And his hearts fluttered.

Just for a second, they flared with renewed life.

Then it was gone.

Yet even so, there was something bubbling jut beneath the surface. Something he couldn't quite reach and something that made absolutely no sense to him. Some new feeling ... something that he _couldn_'_t _allow himself to feel again...

Oblivious to his internal dilemma, and deciding that her words had been a little harsher than she'd intended, she walked towards him and rested her head against his shoulder, looping a hand around to grip his in comfort.

"Sorry," she said softly.

But the Doctor shook his head.

"You've nothing to be sorry for," he told her firmly. "Oh, and ... by the way ... are you still after chocolate ice-cream?"

He grinned at her suddenly, eyes twinkling with excitement as he expertly replaced his day-to-day mask. "'Cause I know a great place where we can get some. Free of charge, all you can eat, and with chocolate pieces large enough to keep you on a sugar-high for a month!"

Shaking her head in disbelief, Martha felt a smile return to her face after such a long time as she marvelled at the way his emotions flicked from one to the next with nary a word. Nodding, she smiled her approval for the idea and threw her feline companion back onto the bed, where it landed against the pillows, its wide eyes winking up at them in unseeing delight.

She watched as he stepped towards her desk, before turning away, making for the door. She paused though before she could leave the room, and stared back at him.

"You know ... for the record, that song's got one thing right," she commented falsely brightly.

"Oh?" he asked, eyebrows raised, blowing out the candles on her desk before joining her by the door and leading her from the room.

Nudging him in the ribs, she smiled at him, a warm, loving smile that she was sure hid the pain she was feeling remarkably well.

'_He_'_s not the only one who can wear a mask_,' she thought, before answering him again.

"It don't matter."

He paused, closing the door behind them and staring a her through furrowed eyes.

"What don't matter?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

"It don't matter what everybody else thinks. You're stuck with me, no matter what."

Smiling his thanks, voice apparently lost to the lump of emotion blocking his throat, he nodded slightly and pulled her on through the corridors towards the Console Room, his hearts by no means healed but their shattered remnants beginning to piece themselves together, bit by bit.

And all because of one lonely companion's stubborn attitude, accompanied with an incredibly emotional song.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies to all you readers out there! And even more thanksies to all you reviewers!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


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